


not all monsters hide under the bed

by scintillatingstars



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Crimes & Criminals, Horror, Investigator Kartik Singh, M/M, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintillatingstars/pseuds/scintillatingstars
Summary: Kartik finds love amidst a series of seven gruesome murders.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 86
Kudos: 190





	1. greed

Kartik Singh has been working for the Crime Investigation Department for just three years now but he has rapidly grown and gained a higher position in the hierarchy very soon right after working as subordinate in years while he was still studying. He is among the youngest of people working in the department and yet he has authority. But he can swear he has never seen a murder as peculiar as such before and neither have any of the older co-workers or bosses.

They are at the crime site, it is a upper middle class locality, the house is big enough to suggest the family is financially well off. Their team is carefully examining every part of the living room, which has quite a exquisite looking dining table in the centre, it looks misplaced somehow as if it wasn't meant to be there. While everyone searches and scans the place minutely, Kartik can't take away his eyes from the dead body. His eyes are transfixed. It's like a paradox, it's hard to watch and all he would want is to never see such a sight again but at the same time so intriguing that you can't get yourself to look away.

The victim appears to be a woman in early thirties but he has been told she's forty years of age. She looks awfully young. Quite frankly, she looks quite beautiful. Her skin is smooth and wrinkle-free for her age, clearly, she took care of it. Despite, apparently being forty years of age she quite healthy and fit. 

She comes off as a person who must have been sophisticated and classy. Dressed in a pair of formal shirt and pants paired with black flat heels, an expensive-looking watch elegantly gracing her wrist along with equally ravishing bracelets and other jewellery that adored her body. 

But right now, the sight of the woman just churns horrible feeling in his gut. Any sort of positive adjectives seem to contradict her appearance. Her skin is hauntingly pale as if all the blood has gushed out of her body. Her lifeless body stoops heavily on the wooden table before it for support and balance. Her head is laid against the shiny and gradient texture of the table.The posture is awkward, straining and uncomfortable to even watch. Her arms and legs are tightly tied to the chair of the dining table she's seated on. There's a plate kept before her but far enough from the edge of the table, far enough for her to not be able to reach out even if she were not bounded. Sets of knives and forks and spoons are kept on each side of the plate, like a setting for some grand feast organized for autocracies. But the thing is there is not food in the plate to feast on.

There are several pink currency notes. Some of them appear crisp and fresh, just out of an ATM machine. Most of them are now scattered and laced with saliva and spit, crinkled and torn at places. But the majority of them are stuffed in the woman's mouth. Her wide-open mouth puts the crumbled currency notes shoved down her throat on display as saliva drools down from the side of her mouth.

Apparently, the cause of death isn't choking, which is surprising, it is poisoning. The currency notes were dipped in poison. The kind of poison that doesn't works instantly but takes hours and slowly starts affecting your system and eventually causes death.

Clearly, the victim suffered and struggled for hours before she was granted quietus. If the dried tears running down her face aren't enough proof of the same.

Another peculiar thing is she has 'GREED' engraved on her forehead. It's not written with some marker. It is carved out with a knife. Her forehead is a bloody mess. The blood clotting over the cut marks forms a thick layer over it, sort of giving the words bold formatting effect. Pieces of flesh peak from under layers of blood. The words are written very clearly and neatly even. You don't have a hard time reading any of that. It looks like it has been done by someone skilled, someone who has done it before and practiced it to perfection. 

The blood-stained knife marks its presence in the table, staining the tablecloth under. The currency notes are being examined carefully, some of them are splattered with tints of red as blood has dripped down the woman's forehead to her nose, cheeks and mouth. 

The stench of vomit fills the air, Kartik winces at it but he can't blame anyone because if he wouldn't have been looking at dead corpses stained in blood for so long, he probably would have emptied his stomach as well.

A choked sob resounds in the room and Kartik turns to look at a boy crying profusely at a couch not far away. He looks young but by the looks of it isn't a teenager for sure. He has casual clothes on. A pair of blue Jean's, white shirt under a red plaid flannel shirt along with vans. Pretty long, fluffy looking hair and light stubble makes him look about twenty five years of age.

He has been told this guy was the one who called the police. He is the dead woman's only son.

He can't help but go to him and place a comforting hand of the guy's shoulder but the guy flinches away at the sudden touch. 

He looks back, his eyes staring into space widely, unfocused but they manage to catch Kartik's eyes. Now that Kartik is closer, he notices the shallow and irregular intakes of breaths. The slumped posture, hands running through locks of hair constantly as fingers clench around wisps of hair, trying to bring together the only left parts of sanity.

"Don't worry, we'll find the murderer," Kartik makes a rather pitiful attempt to comfort and express his condolences.

The guy just nods in dismay. Kartik doubts if he even heard or comprehended his words properly. 

*

Kartik is sitting in his chair, looking at the major details in the file of the victim.

_**Name:** Sushmita Verman Tripathi_

_**Age:** 40 years_

_**Sex:** Female_

_**Day and Date of death:** Monday, 24 March 2020_

_**Location:** House No.: 38, Main Road, Nehru Place, Delhi_

_**Cause of death:** Poisoning by strychnine (low concentration for steady death)_

**_Relationship(s):_ **

_Father: Late Rajdeep Verman_  
_Mother: Late Usha Verman_  
_Spouse: Late Abhinav Tripathi_  
_Child/Children: Aman Tripathi_

Kartik has registered by now that there are no actual proofs regarding the murder. The criminal is clever enough to leave behind no shreds of evidence. The currency notes, ropes or any furniture nearby has no fingerprints or marks indicating something. There are no witnesses.

He has already asked for CCTV footage of the location for the past week to observe frequent visitors or gather some evidence.

The only person who can probably give the case a new direction was Aman Tripathi, the one who called and was the first and probably the only witness of the crime.

When Aman enters the room, Kartik feels a bit empathetic. He looks the same as the day they first met. He looks shaken up, terrified. He timidly walks up to the chair and stands up there. The appearance alone is enough to make him look pitiful and meek.

Kartik asks him to sit down comfortably.

"Like I said we'll find the criminals for sure but we'll need your help, right?" Kartik says.

Aman just nods his head. Kartik understands it is difficult for him. He has just lost the only parent he was left with.

"So what exactly did you witness?" Kartik questions him.

"I went to college. I came back around five in the evening. I entered my home and saw mom tied to the chair, the way you did," Aman's voice trembles.

Kartik notices as Aman's eyes fill up with a sort of a devastating horror as Aman revisits and remembers the crime scene.

"I know it's hard for you. But this is important, you know," Kartik tries to comfort.

"Was it just you two at home?" Kartik inquires.

"Yes, father passed away a few months ago," Aman whispers.

Kartik knew Aman's father was no more but the fact that his father's death that must have left wounds might have not even healed yet and Aman has already been given cuts to deal with.

According to information gathered, Aman is an engineering student, he is twenty three years of age. 

"You're alone at home now?" Kartik asks.

"Yes," Aman answers, his voice is soft and almost lost as if he doesn't know or realizes what he is saying most of the time.

"You know, you're an adult. So we can't help you in many ways but I recommend you to live with your guardians for a while," Kartik suggests.

Aman doesn't respond to him at first but later speaks up, "I have no one else."

"I'm sorry," Kartik apologizes sincerely and there is a tight silence for a while. Kartik waits for Aman to say something but he does not. 

"You can leave but if you need any help or you suspect something, you can immediately come to us," Kartik tells him assuredly.

"We will contact you for future inquiries. Thank you for coming and cooperating," Kartik nods slightly as a sign to affirm allowance of Aman's departure.

Aman leaves.


	2. a night lit on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for saima2010 who is very supportive and encouraging. a reason I stay motivated and try not to abandon the fics.
> 
> thank you to all the readers who give their time to read and comment <3

Kartik is extremely stressed. The new case is deemed as highly severe and significant by everyone.

It does nothing but increases the workload and pressure on Kartik and his team. The entire day he keenly scanned loads of files and ordered for further details.

The day was hectic and tense. His head is haywire right now. He wants to get rid of all this tension for once, wants all these worries to wash away. So he goes to the gay bar nearby.

He visits this place often, it's almost like his second abode, the first is his office because he spends most of his day there surrounded by thousands of files. Although him visiting this place so frequently isn't a good thing because he comes here only whenever he is stressed. The bar is called 'Flames' and the way the name suggests, it's cosy and full of ecstatic energy.

Amidst boisterous noise of people conversing loudly, competing with the high volume of groovy, upbeat tracks, Kartik makes his way to the counter.

Basking in the glow of the bar's soft neon lights, embracing the subtle darkness of the atmosphere, the smoke twirling in curls around, he sits on the stool, just wanting his body to relax, the tight muscles to loosen.

"Dry Martini on rocks," Kartik orders the bartender, already feeling relieved in the place away from an array of files and pressure of seniors.

He stares at a few hot guys dancing. One of them catches his eyes. Staring back invitingly.

Kartik sips his drink and looks away, he isn't really interested. Not that the guy ain't hot. He probably would have tapped that ass if he was in the mood.

And that's how Kartik likes it. One nightstands. Just fucking, it's simple, efficient with no strings attached. You get in and out with maximum pleasure and minimum bullshit.

Relationships, on the other hand, need commitment. Commitment needs time. Time something he doesn't get even for himself, let alone a relationship. And then there are responsibilities and expectations associated with you which means more stress.

And he is here to relieve that stress that has clouded his head the entire day, not to add on further stress.

Kartik scans the room casually when he spots someone he probably would have never expected to be here. 

Aman Tripathi. A son whose mother just passed away a few days ago in such a brutal and grotesque way is here in a gay bar. How intriguing.

Kartik can't help but feel curious and suspicious. He doesn't look euphoric or something but why would he be here?

Kartik stands up, walks to Aman and sits beside him. Aman doesn't notice at all first, just twirls his glass of whiskey glass around. But when he looks up and acknowledges him, he looks surprised.

"Hi, Mr Singh," He says slowly.

"Call me Kartik. I'm off duty, right now. Fancy seeing you here though?" Kartik asks inquisitively, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kartik knows Aman understands that kimd of situation he is in is suspicious but doesn't expect Aman to put it out so bluntly.

"You must be wondering why I'm chilling in a bar when my mum just died, right?" Aman asks, chuckling.

"Yeah, kind of," he replies, trying to sound casual.

"Couldn't stay at home. It kept triggering my anxiety. The fact she was killed right in that house scares me. I couldn't stay there for long," Aman tells him, he clearly looked terrified.

Kartik feels it's absolutely reasonable and justified. Living alone in a house where someone has been murdered is obviously scary. Nobody would want that.

"Besides, I wasn't very close to her," Aman adds on sighing, after a while.

Kartik wants to ask why but lets it be. He's not here to talk about this and he's pretty sure Aman is not too.

"Wanna dance?" He asks casually, just wanting to divert the subject, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I don't really dance," Aman hesitates, finishing his glass of whiskey.

Kartik finishes his third glass simultaneously.

"C'mon," Kartik slurs out.

His body isn't tense anymore. His head is hazy, he doesn't think much, just does whatever he feels like.

He extends his hand for Aman to take.

A bit reluctantly but Aman takes it.

They are on the dance floor. The song playing in the background is slow and sensual. The lights are dim, everything feels warmer among the enthusiastic heated bodies. Aman still looks apprehensive but after a shot or two, he gets comfortable. He sways with music, rolling his hips with rhythm, swinging his waist at accurate beats smoothly. He doesn't look even a little anxious or troubled now. He has his eyes closed, he's just feeling the melody and enjoying it frivolously.

The way he moves his body, the fluidity and flexibility in his movements, it makes Kartik want to never look away. Kartik keeps his eyes glued to Aman's figure. He must have felt holes boring in him, he opens his eyes to catch Kartik's.

He moves to Kartik, his half-lidded eyes alluring Kartik in the web of salacity and Kartik readily gives in.

Kartik now has his hands over Aman's shoulder. He feels a little stiffness in his muscles, Kartik sways along with Aman, never looking away from his brown eyes. They appear to have overcome the monotonous dullness, they scintillate in the dim neon nights. Eventually, Aman loosens up, wrapping his own hands around Kartik's waist.

He slowly moves his fingers up Kartik's spine. Kartik shivers in warm coldness. Suddenly, everything feels hot. Their bodies are too close, torsos touching, their hands sweating. Aman is grinding himself against Kartik. Scorching heat burns through him, the delicious friction between their bodies is too good but not enough.

Kartik craves for more and the way Aman's hooded eyes look back at him, he's sure the feeling is mutual. Kartik can't wait anymore. He bends down a little, capturing Aman's lips with his own in a fiery, passionate kiss. Aman deepens the kiss, wrapping his hand around Kartik's neck as Kartik's own hands find themselves fitting perfectly around Aman's waist.

They don't let go. Their foreheads are touching, his nose is mushed in Aman's cheek. Aman tastes like whiskey, it's intoxicating. There are no fireworks but it invokes the most primal desires in Kartik, they percolate ferociously in his veins.

Their lips remain interlocked until they can't breathe anymore. They separate, panting breathlessly, taking in deep inhales but it isn't enough.

Kartik holds Aman's hand, guiding him through the crowd to the other side of the club. There are rooms, Kartik tries to open the gate of the very first room only to witness the intrusive sight. He quickly shuts the door, finding another vacant room. After being subjected to quite a few undesirable scenes and Aman's giggles, they find a room. Kartik makes sure to lock the door.

His hands are all over Aman in a moment, already addicted to the feeling of Aman's warm, soft skin under them.

The incessant tormenting heat between them doesn't allow them to take long to make way to the empty bed. Aman's under him, looking absolutely fine and Kartik doesn't want to waste even a single moment. The sudden urge to taste Aman suddenly takes over and he recaptures his mouth into a deep kiss. Aman moans into his mouth at the sudden action, Kartik thinks it's the hottest thing ever.

Aman's hand fumble with his shirt buttons, trying to open them but he eventually rips them off in hasty, desperate attempts. Aman's hand roam all over his torso, feeling the cold sweat. Aman thinks he could have not found someone more attractive and tantalizing.

Kartik nibbles at his ear. Aman feels hot breath fanning his ear and he can't help but let out a low moan.

The temperature rises dramatically. His pants are tight, he wants them off. Kartik peppers rough kisses down his neck, he feels electricity rush through his body.

Kartik lifts his T-Shirt, Aman lifts up a bit to get rid of it. While Aman gets off his shirt, Kartik's hands open the button of his pants, pulling them down.

Within moments, it was just their bare bodies against each other, the closest they could ever be. Their heads are hazy with alcohol and the primitive desires of lust render them senseless.

Soon enough, Aman's limbs are on Kartik's either side as Kartik struggles to reach his pants' pockets, searching for a condom and lube that he always keeps, you know, just in case he comes across a hot guy.

Aman's eyes follow his actions.

"Do you, by any chance, have handcuffs?" Aman slurs out.

Kartik chuckles but he finds it incredibly tempting.

"Unfortunately, no," Kartik says as he notices Aman's face sulk in disappointment.

"But I can wreck you senseless so that you remember nothing but my name even without handcuffs," Kartik smirks on top of Aman.

"Try me," Aman challenges.

Aman realizes it doesn't take much time for a simple looking man to turn into a ferocious beast if provoked a little.

Kartik's soft, gentle touches aren't so gentle now. They're rough, desperate. Kartik starts slow and steady, making sure Aman's comfortable but soon his thrusts turn faster and deeper.

Aman can't help but arch his back, throw his head back, moan out obscenities. His toes curl, eyes roll at the intense feeling of a blend of pain and pleasure. He can't think straight anymore. He doesn't care if he sounds pathetic begging for more, crying for Kartik to move faster.

Kartik moans above him, spewing filth. Telling him how tight and amazing he feels.

Between the noises of the bed squeaking as it hits the wall, Kartik and his own moans synchronizing like a beautiful harmony, immense pleasure, he couldn't take it anymore.

He pants, inhaling short breathes. His body feels exhausted but he feels content. He doesn't remember anything after. Just his drunken state falling in darkness.

*

Kartik wakes up to his phone continuously ringing. He squints his eyes further in annoyance, searching for his phone on the nearby bedside table. He moves his hand around, only for it to cut through the air. He opens his eyes to realize this isn't his apartment.

He is naked, nothing new. He often wakes up this way. He looks beside him to see Aman peacefully sleeping with his lips slightly parted. He notices a few bites on his neck, Kartik thinks they look pretty. Aman has his hand wrapped around his waist. He head rests on his bare chest, their legs are tangled. Kartik's own hands are around Aman's neck.

Kartik slowly gets up, Aman lets out a tiny grunt at the lack of warmth. Kartik tries to get up as slowly as possible, trying not to wake up Aman from his slumber.

His head aches from the hangover but the thing is he has fucked up. Sleeping with someone who's involved in one of the cases, even if he's just a witness. Kartik wants to bang his head into the wall for his own blasphemy. How much must he have drunk for him to sleep with Aman even after recognizing him or what must have gotten in him that he didn't think rationally even for once.

Kartik rubs his eyes and sighs. His phone rings again. He searches for his fallen pants, picking it up to take the phone out of the pocket.

5 Missed Calls.

All from Nikhil. His subordinate. Sometimes, Kartik feels he gets more calls from Nikhil than from his mother.

It's 7:36.

He isn't late but he has only about a half-hour to get ready and leave for work. Just great.

He quickly dresses up and leaves. Just once looking behind to see Aman sleeping, he pulls the sheets over Aman, covering him before leaving in hassle.

*

"Get me my pills, please, Nikhil," Kartik pleads, rubbing his head.

"Another one night stand?" Nikhil asks teasingly, passing him a small, small bottle and glass of water.

Kartik just hums because he knows Nikhil has already made out the answer.

"Was it good?" Nikhil asks, curious.

He's always this way but when Kartik tells him the details he scoffs off in disgust as if he wasn't the inquisitive one.

"One of the best," Kartik smiles.

"Anyway, all of this aside, did you go through CCTV footage?" Kartik asks, transforming in an investigator that he is.

"We did. Like her son said, he went out for college around 7 in the morning, 7:17 to be exact. He returned at 5:06 sharp and the police report says they received a call by 5:11. Not a single soul came in or went out during the time being," Nikhil informs him.

"Are there any other doors or something in the house?"

"We searched the entire house very precisely, there's no other door," Nikhil says.

"Also, the currency notes, they were from their own locker, it was broken down and money was retrieved. Again no fingerprints on the safe," Nikhil adds on.

"The murdered didn't even take a penny from there. The money we got on the plate and in her mouth, that was all," Nikhil speaks on with a disgusted look on his face on remembering the crime scene.

Kartik frowns in thought.

"Any clue about reason 'greed' was carved on her head?"

"I don't know if it is related but we did a background check. She wasn't her late husband's first wife. Her husband's first wife died and the guy was about ten years older than her. Also, he died under suspicious conditions," Nikhil says as he goes around his desk, searching for something.

He heads back to Kartik's desk with a file.

"There's a court case going on between this woman and her husband's side over the property. In the hearings of court, her husband's relatives even accused her of murdering her husband for the property. The man was pretty well off but his death documents say it was suicide," Nikhil pushes the file to Kartik.

"That's it, Nikhil. It explains the greed thing but we still don't know the truth about this whole case," Kartik ponders.

"Why don't we call her son? He must know."

Kartik startles at the thought of Aman. It's his duty to give his best to the case, though and he knows how to keep his professional life separate from his personal life and he'll continue doing it.

It was just a one night stand. No strings attached. Kartik reminds himself.

"Yeah, do that," He tells Nikhil.

*

Kartik thoroughly discusses the case and it's proceedings with the seniors for about an hour before they wrap it up.

When he enters the room, he spots Aman sitting across his desk.

"Morning, Mr Aman," Kartik lets out, professionally.

"Morning," Aman whispers smiling at him.

"Do you want to have something?" Kartik asks just like that but he didn't expect Aman to ask for a cup of coffee.

He just looks at Nikhil who tries to stifle a laugh but orders the coffee anyway.

"We wanted to discuss some very intriguing information we gathered," Kartik tells him solemnly.

Aman hums in response.

"So you didn't think it was necessary for us to know about the court case going on? Or how Ms Sushmita Tripathi is stepmother to you? Or how your father committed suicide?" Kartik lets out, almost harshly.

Aman flinches at his rough tone before saying, which Kartik thinks is very naïve, "Nobody asked. I thought it was not necessary."

"Mr Aman, why would you think a property court case would have nothing to do with greed carved across her forehead?" Kartik snaps.

Aman looks distressed and guilty. He shoulder sink, he looks sideward and Kartik catches a glimpse of his artwork done last night.

Nikhil arrives with a cup of coffee, raising an eyebrow at the tension in the room.

Kartik rubs his eyes and whispers slowly, "Look I get you were scared and distressed and all but this is a very necessary detail."

Aman nods, biting his lower lip which appears swollen.

"Nikhil, record it."

"So, tell me about your father's death?" Kartik asks when Nikhil turns on the tape recorder.

Aman curls his fingers into a fist but replies slowly, "He committed suicide. The note clearly said he was heartbroken and betrayed when he came to know about my stepmother cheating on him. He was already depressed after mum's death, he couldn't take it anymore. Adultery isn't a crime anymore, nothing could be done."

"Don't you hate your stepmother then?" Nikhil asks this time.

"We were never close. Dad married her soon after mum passed away. He ain't a saint. He cheated on mum and then got cheated on. They fought frequently, dad and stepmother. I didn't bother to get involved between them. Kept a distance from her. I despise her because she was the reason for my mum's tears," Aman breathes out. He's clearly trying his best to bottle up his emotions, pressing his lips together, forming fists.

"What about the court case?" Nikhil asks again.

"Father's brothers filed the case. Not because they were concerned about a dad or something. They wanted the property as well. Now that stepmother had it, they tried to retrieve it from her. But she got powerful lawyers by her side, there's no way she would have lost."

"The property is yours now, isn't it?" Nikhil imposes another question. He's sceptical of Aman and it's obvious by his inquires.

"No, Mister," Aman says realizing Nikhil's suspicion, he scoffs, "My dear stepmom signed it off to her family as soon as she got it. I have no say in it legally."

Nikhil shuts off their tape recorder.

"I'm sorry about your loss and I understand your irritation but this is my job," Nikhil offers to console before he leaves.

It's just Aman and him now and silence.

"You may leave, Aman," Kartik says to end the awkwardness.

Aman stands up and is about to leave when Kartik speaks up again, "Wait. About last night, Aman. It was a mistake. I was drunk and stressed. Besides, it was just a one night stand, nothing more. I hope we both are even with this. And whatever happened yesterday doesn't affect anything in here and vice versa."

Kartik clears out, straightforwardly. His voice is firm and unfazed. Kartik just wanted to let Aman know so that things do not complicate later. 

Aman's face looks like it has lost all its colour. His eyes are glazing with hurt and betrayal. He stands there, looks at Kartik and presses his lips together.

Clearly, both of them weren't even with these terms.

Aman doesn't utter even a single word.

Aman leaves.


	3. lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood and gore

Kartik's team is working on the case dedicatedly.

They have called in, questioned and cross-questioned everyone who seems related but everyone just justifies themselves and keep circling the question, bringing it back to the origin.

They've neither got any solid or even vague proofs against anyone. Abhinav Tripathi's brothers are the primary suspects right now who are being interrogated and kept an eye on. The arrest warrant cannot to issued by the police unless their team doesn't search up for proofs against the suspects. They just have the authority to question the suspects and demand clarifications, nothing more and nothing less. They do keep a tight check on people related and have ordered everyone to stay in the city for the time being or the consequences on fleeting would be severe.

It's extremely frustrating, though, how despite working so hard they are stumbling throughout, without any progress.

"Kartik they'll be here for interrogation around 5," Nikhil informs him.

It's been almost a week, they are all literally surviving on caffeine and aspirin.

Nikhil literally looks like he will collapse or fall asleep any moment and Kartik is sure he looks equally tired.

It's around 4 in the noon. They are almost done with things decided today when Nikhil rushes to him, covering the landline's speakers with his palm.

"Mr. Kumar," he mouths.

Kartik takes the handset.

"Reach to the location I'm sending via SMS with your team as soon as possible," a very strained and alarmed voice orders through the landline. Kartik felt this urge to outrageously cry out in protest ' _Just why?_ ' 

"Sure, Sir," he responds dutifully instead. 

Kartik groans low in his throat, rubbing his temples and sighs for the umpteenth time. 

"Inform others, we gotta leave," Kartik heaves his shoulders.

"Right now?" Nikhil raises an eyebrow.

Kartik nods his head.

"Let Vinod and Meera be here for interrogation. Explain them everything," Kartik tells Nikhil.

They are on their way and everyone is exhausted and annoyed. The car is full of sighs and groans. Heat radiates off their exhausting bodies. Precipitation of sweat leaves the air tinged with unpleasant smell. The humidity and crowded space makes it unbearable to not lose sanity.

"Why our team? We're already working on other cases?" Arjun voices Kartik's internal questions and annoyance. 

"Maybe it's related? Guess we'll know once we reach," Nikhil supplies, calmly.

If Kartik hadn't met Nikhil in person, he would have never believed a man as such exists. His calm and sensible advice and inputs in the direst of situations are admirable. Kartik swears he has never seen Nikhil throw a fit of frustration or anger even once during the time period of four years that they've spent together.

It takes about half an hour but they reach the location which supposedly is a crime scene now.

The barricades are already intact so they didn't have to search for the location particularly, the chaos outside makes it easy to spot. It is bungalow with barricades around now.

The bungalow is huge, majestic and exquisite. There are many cars in the private parking lot a few metres away from the entrance. The house probably belongs to some rich elite or politician or perhaps a celebrity. 

It is surrounded by police officers. The sirens of their vehicles wailing, the slight chatter of curious onlookers who stand there looking around on tiptoes, the constant flashing sounds of the camera, the media reporter loudly trying to communicate in a distance, the angry and stress officials trying to manage the chaos and not let anyone sneak past the barricades.

They enter the luxurious mansion and the doors shut, dimming the noises coming from outside. Everything is a mess inside as well, though. It stenches of vomit, urine and blood. Pictures are being taken, anything that can be a potential evidence is being bagged and labelled, the crime scene is being scanned but when he lays his eyes on the victim's dead body, his head goes blank. Nausea claws at his throat, his stomach contracts so violently, he rushes for the toilet whose location he had no idea about. He brings his palm over mouth to stop himself. He tries to force the bile down his throat but the sight stuck in his head doesn't help. A policeman is kind enough to guide him to the toilet, noticing his unfortunate episode. He lurches forward, letting the contents if his lunch out of his system. It's disgusting, foul.

But not more than the sight he saw. 'Nothing', Kartik thinks, 'Nothing. Any number of years of experience could have prepared him for that.'

The guy appears very young and handsome but right now Kartik just feels gross even looking at him.

The body is naked, hands and legs tied tightly with ropes, the wrists and ankles have deep purple bruises around them. The man has been castrated and the chopped off testicle is currently shoved down his throat. There is dried blood over his body. The severed vessels, sticking like corrugated pipes through clotted blood. But that couldn't kill him. A slight but precise cut has been placed skilfully across his neck, but not enough precisely to kill instantly and Kartik knows it is deliberate. Kartik looks at the man's wide-open eyes. The lifeless orbs still seem to be begging for help, reflecting and narrating the horror efficiently.

Kartik shudders at the prolonged torment the man must have gone through.

But the question was: why our team?  
And the answer stares back at Kartik front from the dead man's forehead.

LUST, it says. Carved right across the forehead, in the same slightly slanted but neat handwriting. Red blood clots around the cuts, a few droplets of blood that rushed down the slope of the face now have dried down as well.

There's so much blood around. The scent makes Kartik want to puke again. If this wasn't enough to make his soul shiver, head collapse, there was a message right above the bed's wall.

Next: GLUTTONY

His head is pounding with countless mysteries, they slowly develop into an unbearable ache.

*

Kartik feels nauseous and sick as they drive back to their office. They've sincerely done their job at the crime sight despite feeling nasty.

This case, Kartik feels, will either become his career's best or end up in a disaster, possibly even ending his career.

The body has been sent for forensic reports. Photographs have been clicked. Evidence has been sealed. Unlike last time, they didn't find the weapon of murder.

Kartik isn't going to sleep tonight, that's for sure.

*

Kartik is outside 'Flames', unsure of going in. He needs relief, an escape from the stress and pressure of this job. But he is hesitant.

Every day, despite the nuisance of the case, he is reminded of that glorious night. It has felt so good but the hurt on Aman's face made him feel guilty. He realizes he should have made sure for Aman to know it means nothing more to him than sex.

But does it? Kartik doesn't understand because the images of Aman under him each night didn't make sense. The sounds of Aman moans and heavy breaths ringing in his ears didn't make sense. The yearn to want to be with him doesn't make sense. Feeling upset about Aman being upset doesn't make sense.

But tonight it doesn't matter. He just wants a distraction because the thoughts in his head aren't going to take him anywhere.

So, he's here by the liquor counter, swallowing down shots after shots, listening to the man sitting beside him babbling god knows what. The hazier his conscience becomes, the more thoughts go away.

"Fuck," the man beside him swears, he's gazing at something, Kartik looks up to realize it's someone.

And not just someone, it's Aman. Who alike he looks in need of desperate refuge from reality at the counter.

Aman probably noticed him staring. For he stands up, parades to the dance floor. And Kartik doesn't even try to get his eyes off Aman because right now he looks like literal sin dressed in a pair of skinny jeans that hug curves perfectly and a crop top and jacket over it. A crop top. Kartik wants to scream.

"Fuck, fuck," The man beside eloquently voices his thoughts.

The nameless man stands up and goes straight to Aman. Kartik is not judgemental but frankly thinks that it's funny he even thinks he stands a chance.

But when Aman invitingly wraps his hand around the man who looks like father of two children, Kartik's jaw drops.

Aman keeps staring at him, the lazy smirk intact on his face the entire time as he smoothly touches the man seductively. Aman knows exactly what he's doing. The man is all over Aman, barely even standing, he has a hand across Aman's waist, caressing the bare flesh.

Kartik burns with this eerie and absurd feeling. It fills his veins with an unjustified rage. He wants nothing more than being in that creep's place. He scowls in distress.

Standing up off the stool, taking huge steps to the dance floor. He shoves the man's hand off Aman's waist who incoherently screams profanities. Kartik just glares at him, moving him away from Aman.

He encloses his fingers around Aman's wrist who protests slightly as he drags him to the other side of the bar, where they could probably have an actual conversation instead of yelling over the loud music.

"Thought you said 'no strings attached'?" Aman crosses his hands across his chest after he yanks his hand from Kartik's hold.

"What were you trying to pull?" Kartik says back, jealously evident in his tone.

"What?" Aman pouts innocently.

"Don't act like you don't know," Kartik rebukes, grinding his teeth.

"And so what? Why are you getting all worked about it? It's not like you care now? Righ-" Aman is cut off as Kartik captivates his lips in a kiss, shutting him off.

Aman kisses back promptly. Kartik thinks he never realized he missed this so much. Missed the soft feeling against his lips. Misses these warm hands roaming across his torso. Missed having his arms around the lithe figure. The restless nights he spends thinking about the bliss and calms this bring him.

But Aman stops abruptly, he pushes Kartik against the wall and starts to leave without a word.

"What? What's wrong?" Kartik yells, he hates how desperate he sounds.

"I refuse," Aman says slyly, glaring at him.  
"I refuse to be your stress reliever."

Aman's eyes are an oxymoron. Warmth swirling with pure desire and cynical coldness crippling with hurt and betrayal.

Kartik, somehow, feels he deserves this.

Aman leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short. I'm a bit less motivated these days, please bear with me. <3


	4. gluttony

"I want all the files related to yesterday's victim as soon as possible," Kartik half-announced, half-shouted as soon as he enters the office, startling everyone.

He's distressed. Last night didn't help, just worsened the predicament. The night ended with a melancholy note and the morning began with a reminder that he might lose this case if they don't hurry with proceedings. Apparently, the victim was a politician's son and obviously these aristocratic elites think they own the world. Emotions are piling up one over other without repose. An explosion was ought to occur it did.

He sits at his desk, staring at his reflection in the computer monitor. His eyes have dark circles under them due to minimal sleep he has been getting ever since the case began. It has grown into a never-ending headache.

He rubs his eyes in a failed attempt to wash away the fatigue. Nikhil enters the room carrying a bunch of files, he places them on the tabletop. On the top of the stack, there's an aspirin pill. Kartik smiles softly, it eases his tension. Kartik swears if Nikhil were gay, he would have married him already.

"Didn't find hot guys yesterday?" Nikhil asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"It's nothing like that," Kartik groans.

"Someone rejected you?" Nikhil exclaims he knows Kartik so well.

"Well, this is new," Nikhil laughs.

Kartik growls, massaging his temples.

"Let's talk about the case, shall we?" Kartik asks.

Nikhil places a file on his desk. The first page has basic details of the victim.

_**Name:** Arjun Balayan_

_**Age:** 25 years_

_**Sex:** Male_

_**Day and Date of death:** Moday, 1April 2020_

_**Location:** Bungalow No.: 04, Elite Society, Cavanaugh Place_

_**Cause of death:** A deep, obliquely place, long incised neck injury was found on the front side of neck. The left end of the injury started below the ear at upper third of the neck and deepened gradually with severance of the left carotid artery. The right sided end of the injury was at the mid third of the neck with a tail abrasion. Lungs show aspiration of blood._

**_Relationship(s):_ **

_Father: Jaideep Balayan_   
_Mother: Bhoomi Balayan_   
_Spouse: None_   
_Child/Children: None_

"We did our research. One thing is clear, the murderer is targeting potential criminals. The words carved in these heads make all the sense. Like in this case, the victim is prosecuted for three rape trails."

"And he was free all this time?" Kartik asks, surprised. Thinking about the crime scene still makes Kartik nauseous and he kind of pitied the victim but hearing this makes fury rush through him.

"He's an influential politician's son. They have always tried to keep it a secret, there's no such news in the media outlets. The trials are pending since almost three tears with little progress and he was bailed out, living with liberty for all these years," Nikhil looks disgusted as he tightens his jaw, placing the files on the table.

"There are all the details in these," He informs.

"Call history? CCTV footage?" Kartik asks, skimming through the reports.

"I was coming to that. The CCTV cameras were disabled for the last 24 hours. Also, the call history doesn't have any records of last 24 hours," Nikhil sighs, he realises how laborious it is going to be when the serial killer leaves barely any pieces of evidence.

"About gluttony? Any clues?"

"I don't understand, Kartik. Why would the murderer kill someone who eats excessively? Doesn't make sense. It isn't a crime or something?" Nikhil expresses his genuine confusion.

Kartik hums in agreement.

*

They toil the entire day, making inquiries about the insufficient call history, the disabled CCTV. Contacted everyone who knew the guy personally, arranging a meeting. It was hectic and cumbersome.

Kartik received a newspaper from the senior officials that only made his worries intensify.

Right on the front page printed with a big, bold font is the headline:

> **'24 year old brutually assaulted and murdered; stirs fear in masses'**
> 
> _**New Delhi** : On 2 April, Thursday, a 24-year-old young man was found dead at his home in Karol Bagh. The gruesome murder stirred a rush of fear and insecurity among the masses. The man was castrated_ _before his-_

Kartik slams the newspaper down the table. This whole thing is gaining attention that ultimately makes them responsible for putting an end to this array of murders.

Kartik picks up the now a bit crumpled and torn newspaper, he scans the newspaper, looking through various several articles related to sports, politics, Bollywood but one intrigues him, makes him ponder but more importantly, his instincts say there's something about it.

On the fifth page, in a corner printed in minimum space:

> **'Family dies of starvation, ration shops to be blamed'**
> 
> _**Delhi:** A family of six members, consisting of two adults, three children, gradually died of hunger. Apparently, the ration shops nearby sold the goods in black markets, earning major profit as poor families were refused the ration. Ration shop owners are accused of sabotaging the Public Distribution System. The accused are yet to be identified and taken an action against._

The report is short, doesn't give any major information but it clicks in Kartik's head.

He stands up, rushes to Nikhil's desk, placing the newspaper down on his desk, pointing at the article he orders, "Ask a team to follow this report. I want to know everything about this. Everything. If we crack this, we might prevent the next murder."

Nikhil scans the article. His eyebrows knit in a frown and he questions perplexed, "How?"

"This person is eating, Nikhil. Eating away the deprived ones' ration. Their food. Their rights."

Nikhil originally looked unconvinced but after giving it a second thought, it actually made sense.

*  
Kartik is in his apartment. Lounging lethargically on the bed. He's looking through information sent by the team. The case never letting him think about anything else.

He clicks the power button, shutting it off, throwing it on the bedside table. Only to be reminded of something as he turns it on again.

He goes through the contact list, searching for a name: Aman. Kartik has always been professional but he has also learnt it's okay to be a little unprofessional sometimes. It's okay to take advantage of his powers, sometimes. So he sneaked Aman's number from the records.

Aman refused to look at him, let alone have a conversation. He's hostage to the consequences due to which he had to this.  
  
He types and retypes again and again. Trying to make a coherent sentence without seeming like a creep or desperate. He eventually settles for:

_Hi, Aman._

_This is Kartik._

_I wanted to talk._

Kartik sighs. Admitting he sucks at texting to himself. Kartik shuts the phone, not expecting a reply at 12:32.

But his phone pings after a few minutes and he quickly reaches for it.

_What happened to 'no strings attached'?_

_Huh?_

_Look. I know I've hurt you._

_I'm sorry._

_I want to talk about the same._

_Then talk?_

_No. Not like this._

_In person?_

_That's not happening._

_Just once? Maybe?_

_Only if you want, though._

No message comes for a while. It shows 'typing...' and then it disappears only to show 'typing...' again.

Kartika is afraid he low-key sounds desperate and clingy. 

His phone pings again. 

_Fine._

_Tomorrow. At the cafe in the street opposite Flames?_

_7 AM._

_7 AM? Isn't it too early?_

_Duty calls._

_Okay._

_Okay._

Aman leaves him on read.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive the shortness.


	5. handcuffs

Kartik arrives at the café he mentioned at 7 sharp. Aman was already there. He looked sleepy, his hair tousled and he's dressed in a casual T-Shirt and a pair of jeans.

Kartik feels overdressed as he is dressed in a white button-down shirt and a pair of black pants. Kartik tries to look as casual as possible.

He makes his way to the seat opposite Aman, sits down. Aman acknowledges his presence with droopy eyes.

"Good morning," Kartik greets.

"Morning," Aman replies back.

The waiter greets them and asks for the order.

"An espresso," Kartik orders as he watches Aman scanning the menu with mirth.

Aman looks at the waiter, tilts his head and asks, "Masala chai?"

The waiter politely gives him a smile and nods. Kartik smiles. Who would say no to those eyes, after all?

"So, I'm assuming you're not a fan of coffee?" Kartik tries to small talk but Aman isn't here for that.

"Let's not run in circles and talk about what we are here for?"

"Oh, right," Kartik says a bit taken aback by Aman's sudden attitude change.

He searches his pockets for something and places it on the table, sliding it towards Aman.

It's a sorry card. Aman thinks it's very thoughtful and cute.

"Look, Aman. I realize I should have to make sure what it meant to both of us beforehand. I'm sorry," Kartik apologizes.

"Apology accepted," Aman says, still reading the card.

"I'm still not looking forward to a relationship but..." Kartik trails off which makes Aman look up and Kartik speaks again.

"I don't really admit to many. But I really find you very attractive and I'd love to spend time with you and hang out and talk and..."

"And fuck?" Aman supplies.

"Yeah, if that's how you want to put it up," Kartik shrugs.

"Isn't it like unprofessional? Like I'm kind of a witness in the case? Ain't I?" Aman wonders.

"That case is shifted to the other team," Kartik informs Aman.

"You're not handling the murders?" Aman asks, curious.

"I am. But you know, it has become big. It's all over news and media. So we've assigned more teams for the task," Kartik tells him.

The waiter interrupts their conversation as they serve them their respective beverages.

Aman hums in understanding.

"So what are we now?" Aman asks, changing the subject.

"Like friends with benefits?" Kartik offers hesitantly.

"Except we're not really friends?" Aman calls out flatly

"We can become, though," Kartik hopefully assures

"Is this a date?" Aman abruptly questions.

"I'm okay if you want to call it that," Kartik smiles.

Aman smiles back. They sip their drinks in silence. The air between them doesn't feel tense anymore. It's calm and relaxing.

They talk for about half an hour. Discussing random interest, bonding over being cinema enthusiasts and sharing affinity to the same kind of music.

Kartik informs Aman he has to leave for work. Kartik is surprised when Aman looks a bit disappointed.

"Can we meet tonight?" Kartik asks before leaving.

"Your place or mine?" Aman inquiries back, raising his eyebrows.

"Mine? Don't think any of us would like to fuck at a crime sight," Kartik affirms.

Aman gives him a tight smile and asks him to text him the time and location.

*

"Any information about the newspaper article?" Kartik asks as soon as he enters the office.

"I talked to the senior officials," Nikhil says.

"And?"

"They say we should stop working on unnecessary things and focus on an important case," Nikhil presses his lips together.

"And what are these important cases?" Kartik wonders in a mocking drawl.

"The politician's son, of course," Nikhil says sarcastically.

"I'm tired with this bullshit. They expect us to prevent these murders but then none of them is ready to support us," Kartik sighs.

"I contacted the writer of the article regardless. We got the exact location of the place of their deaths, it's about an hour from here," Nikhil informs, shrugging.

"That's more like it," Kartik smirks.

"Ask Arjun to prepare a team that'll go with us and inform the rest to manage whatever we were supposed to do today. If they don't support us, we'll do it on our own," Kartik announces.

*

They reach the location. It's a ghetto, the conditions here are extremely poor and disrupted. Large piles of garbage and choked drains stink the entire place. The houses are very small but are heavily populated. They're barely constructed, the walls look like their crumble even under slightest tremor. The alleys are narrow and dark, there is hardly any space to move around. The area looks secluded from the city. The huge skyscrapers and bright lights of the city seem to ridicule the inky, shabby slums.

Children roam and play in the alleys. Their clothes torn and dirty, shoes mismatched. Some of them carry huge bags on their shoulder, scourging through the huge piles of garbage.

Kartik feels absurd. Not everyone is born privileged in this world. These people battle in the rat-race every day, struggling more than anyone yet the littlest of help they are provided is even snatched away. That's probably what angered the murderer as well.

But this is his job and he's here to accomplish it. So they ask the people around about the family that starved to death. They don't look afraid of them, fascinated rather. One of them leads them to a house, it's empty now. It's like any other house in here, too small, too suffocating.

They hurry to the ration shop after, not wanting to waste any time. The sooner they reach, the sooner they'll warn the owner and secure him to prevent the murder.

But it takes an awful amount of time. The ration shop is very far away. They can't even drive to it because the roads are too tapered. Kartik can't imagine how must it even feel like to walk to the ration shop so far away only to return empty-handed to your hungry family.

It took a while but they reached the place. The door was locked. The place smelled like a mixture of vomit and aroma of food.

"Break the lock," Kartik demands.

Within moments, the lock was slammed open only to reveal a dead body lying on the floor.

"Oh crap," He hears Nikhil curse in distance.

Kartik slams his fist into the ration shop's door, growling in frustration and defeat. After all, they figured out, after all the efforts, they couldn't prevent yet another murder.

The corpse is untied, unlike all the previous ones. But there are purple marks around its ankles and wrists and there are knotted ropes stuck on the arms and legs of a chair nearby which appear to have been cut open. Something that also made his head ponder was a large number of food items in large amounts scattered all over the place.

There's blood leaking from the mouth, vomit all over the place. It stinks awfully. And of course, the signature: GLUTTONY carved out on the forehead, now coated with dried blood.

The words seem to be dancing in front of his eyes, jeering at him, reminding him of how he was already warned yet he couldn't prevent the murder.

Although Kartik notices the way this murder seems to have done messily, the entire place is chaos unlike the murders done before. They were all done neatly, in an organised way.

"Search the place, every bit of it," he orders as he calls other authorities to send help for investigation.

While searching the room, Kartik spots a knife, stained in blood. He reaches for it only to find a piece of paper with it.

'Too late, aren't you?' It reads, words as mocking as they could be.

*

Kartik sighs, tucking at his hair in devastation. They're yet again trying to blame their team and Kartik himself feels guilty but managed to defend his team, exposing how the senior officials clearly denied them any help and even invalidated their actions.

The forensic reports will be there by tomorrow. The bloody knife is sent for evidence that can be gathered along with the piece of paper. The dead body has been identified as Rajesh Aggarwal, the assigned as ration distributor of the area and their background and connections are being dug into. There is a lot of paperwork to do and he's currently working on it with a migraine.

Kartik thinks about going to 'Flames' tonight when he's reminded of Aman. He has already texted Aman the time and location. He takes out his phone text Aman that he's going to be late and he's almost immediately replied with an 'okay'.

*

Kartik sighs tiredly as he reaches outside his apartment. He spots a dark silhouette standing under the glitching bulb outside his apartment. Kartik mentally reminds himself to fix the bulb outside his apartment.

Kartik reaches the door and the figure immediately turns around. It's Aman. Kartik sighs in relief. This entire series of murder is probably making him paranoid.

"How long have you been standing here?" Kartik asks.

"About fifteen minutes," Aman replies.

"Sorry, work came up," Kartik apologizes unlocking the door as they enter in and shut the door behind.

"Another murder?" Aman asks.

"Yeah. How do you know?" Kartik knits his eyebrows in a frown.

"It's all over the news already," Aman answers, looking around his apartment.

"We tried our best but nothing helped," Kartik sighs.

"I've heard the victims are like guilty of some crime. So you don't really need to feel that upset," Aman pats his back in assurance.

Aman's words, somehow, make him feel less burdened and upset.

"Yeah but it's my job," Kartik tells him.

Aman hums.

"I'm not really here to discuss this, am I?" Aman asks, tilting his head with a devilish smile.

He doesn't even wait, untucks Kartik's shirt and unbuttons it impatiently.

Kartik tells him to slow down but Aman seems very ecstatic tonight. Aman captures Kartik's lips with his own in a slow, sloppy kiss.

Everything heats up immediately. The excitement becomes contagious, spreading through Kartik's body like electricity. He drags Aman to the bed in the next room while exploring Aman's mouth all this time.

His shirt is already oft courtesy of Aman's speedy hands. His hands are in process of getting rid of Aman's garments but Aman detaches himself suddenly. He looks like he has other plans.

Kartik finds himself laying on the bed, Aman is over him, his thighs on either side of Kartik's.

"I have a surprise," Aman announces, looking ridiculously happy about it.

His hand goes inside his pocket and he slowly takes it out. Kartik thinks it can't get any hotter.

Here's Aman above him, twirling a pair of silvery handcuffs around his index finger.

Kartik's breath hitches, "There's no way we're doing this."

Aman pouts, "You have no idea how difficult and embarrassing it was to get these."

Kartik almost melts but holds to himself firmly.

"It's okay if you don't want to. I respect consent. Consent is sexy," Aman replies, throwing away the handcuffs when Kartik interrupts him with a 'Wait!'

"I've never done this before but I want to try," Kartik breaths out. Because yes. It's so damn tempting, desires that know no limits are clouding his head, washing away all the sense out of it.

"I've never done this before too," Aman whispers.

It doesn't take long, their frantic impulses gear up their paces. Kartik finds the pair of silver handcuffs gracing his wrists, capturing them in a hold, restricting motion of his arms and hands.

Aman strips off his clothes when something catches his eyes. Black words painted in permanent ink right on Aman's right arm.

"You have a tattoo?" Kartik asks.

"Yeah, you didn't notice before," Aman questions.

Kartik shakes his head. Perhaps, he was so drunk on alcohol and fantasies that he didn't notice that Aman has a tattoo that too in Urdu.

"You understand Urdu?" Kartik asks again, watching keenly as Aman pulls his vest above him.

"No," Aman mumbles.

"I got it in teenage, a stupid dare. It means 'hope' though if you were wondering about the tattoo, the tattoo artist told me," Aman explains and Kartik burst out in laughter.

"What exactly is funny?"

"That's gibberish, Aman. The tattoo, it's just random Urdu alphabets put up together. Trust me, I understand Urdu," Kartik tells him amidst crackles that he couldn't suppress, looking at the priceless expression of pure horror on Aman's face.

"They fooled me," Aman whispers in disbelief as he looks at his tattoo again.

"You didn't even try to check?"

"I believed them. Why would they lie to a customer? Besides, I was going through a bad phase, probably didn't gather enough energy to search or something" Aman says, looking away, trying to hide his hurt.

"Fuck this shit, let's get started," Aman turns to him.

None of them waste any time. Aman gets rid of his clothes in a jiffy. But what Aman does next has Kartik's breath caught in through.

Aman's warm mouth is around him. The sudden action has him moaning out loud. Kartik can somehow feel Aman smirking. Kartik can't believe this. His handcuffed hands frantically try to reach Aman. Aman starts moving, deliberately slow. Aman's lips move, thrusting back and forth. But Kartik feels himself stop breathing when Aman swallows him whole. Aman's movements are slow, teasing, not enough. Kartik wants more. The things Aman's tongue is doing right now cannot even to coherently deciphered. Kartik brings his hand to Aman's head, roughly grabbing his hair, Aman moans around him, sending shivers of pleasure down him.

Kartik craves relief, guides Aman's mouth in fast and rough thrusts. Aman complies eagerly, loving the sounds escaping Kartik's lips, his recurring cries of 'Don't stop', his frantic hands moving desirously, never seeming to get enough until he found release.

But Aman has not had enough. The night is young, unexplored. Aman wraps his hands around Kartik's shoulder, he is panting heavily, sweating profusely. Aman can hear the rapid drumming of his heart as he presses a palm to Kartik's chest.

"There's a rule now, Mr Singh," Aman informs.

"It's very simple: No touching."

Kartik looks up at Aman's mischievous grin and he wants to kiss it off his face and he does. In moments he has a lapful of Aman. His hands exploring every crevice and junction of Kartik's body. Kartik hates these unfair rules.

Aman stops and searches for lube and condom in his discarded pants. He's right before him, preparing himself and all Kartik can do is watch. His head is hazy, he can't think properly, just a wild desire burns in his chest, Aman's grunts and moans ring in his ears. It's too overwhelming, especially when you have no control.

Aman could go on teasing Kartik all night, turning an intimidating investigator into an incoherent mess. But the fire that burns inside Kartik scorches his chest too. He's on Kartik, Kartik's heart literally stops. Aman doesn't want to tease Kartik anymore. Drowning in pleasure, he feels like this, the most filthy, sinful act, has him in heaven. Closing his eyes, there's nothing heard, just their voices intertwining, their teetering sanity losing itself in the abyss of their most obsolete desires.

"Let me touch, please. Please, wanna touch," Kartik pleads, forgetting he has ever known shame or modesty. Not when these bloody handcuffs have his arms bound at back. But Kartik can't help but think it's insanely hot, something about them makes him feel turned on.

Broken sentences, nothing on the mind, pure bliss in a shameless act. Their bodies against each other, heated and wanting, fulfilling their needs.

*

Kartik wakes up at around 1 AM to his phone ringing loudly.

He's still naked, Aman's head rests lightly on his chest and he has his hands wrapped around himself. He's soundly asleep, snoring slightly.

Reminded of what they did just hours ago, Kartik thinks that was easily the best night of his life. Their bodies were exhausted, the handcuffs gave him mauve bruises around his wrist but the heat, the yearn never died down.

Kartik gets up carefully, not wanting to wake Aman up to get his phone.

15 missed calls.

30 messages.

From Nikhil. He reads one of them.

'Urgent. Reach office as soon as possible. Another murder.'

Kartik heart surely skips a beat. He hurriedly gets out of bed and starts to clean himself. The hasty noises wake up Aman who frowns and rubs his eyes.

"I have to leave immediately," Kartik tells him, now sound awake. The message already took away his sleep in a click.

"You can stay here tonight. I don't mind," Kartik rushes.

Kartik doesn't here Aman properly from the other room but it's something along the lines of going back to his place.

"No really. Stay here. It's unsafe," Kartik tells him sternly.

Aman watches Kartik leave.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me, god. for I have sinned.


	6. envy

Kartik reaches the location that has been sent by Nikhil. It's a girls' hostel but it's mostly empty because most of the girls have gone to their homes for a break. Only a few who opted to not go home or couldn't go home due to some issues stayed in the college hostel.

It's about two at night. Everyone looks exhausted but they are still meticulously working. 

Kartik starts to make his way to the corpse and the stench of burned flesh and kerosene increases with each step. The odour in the air is similar to the smell like charcoal or that of pork being grilled. Kartik notices a can of kerosene being examined at the side. The barely viscous, clear liquid is spattered in various places. The plastic chair in a distance has molten into an unrecognizable figure, it has a deep black powdery, flaky substance all over it.

From all the things around, he could already comprehend the fate the dead one was met with but his stomach still lurches at the sight of the dead body. The body has sustained third-degree burns. Extreme heat made it's way past the dermis, scorched the tissues underneath and destroyed the blood vessels. There are brown, black and white patches all over the body. The body itself is almost unidentifiable except the face is deliberately left unburnt to leave the signature behind; a broad, outrageous 'ENVY' carved right across the forehead, stained in crimson like it always is.

The very day they came across the second murder, Kartik knew this won't end there. The killer is set to go on a killing spree. Seven murders were confirmed, all related to seven deadly sins. Just yesterday, they were so close to preventing the third murder. Kartik didn't expect to encounter another so quickly. It did take all of them back and the killer knows that perfectly.

There is a message left behind on the wall. 

SURPRISE!

The letters ooze a pompous and sadistic vibe as if celebrating a triumph. Kartik can visualize a cold, jeering smirk on the lips of an unknown figure. The figure is just a silhouette. He knows nothing about the killer, it makes him feel like a failure. It's like a mirror that mocks his demise.

*

"Here are the autopsy reports of the gluttony murder," Nikhil pushes the file to Kartik.

His eyes have dark circles underneath, trying hard to keep themselves open. His posture isn't upright like it always it, bend over due to fatigue. 

"You can go home. I'll manage," Kartik tells him again.

He has already dismissed a few of his teammates for they have been up all night but Nikhil stubbornly stays by his side.

"I'll be okay," Nikhil dismisses his proposal.

The reports say he was fed till he vomited violently, the sudden increase in pressure ruptured his oesophagus that explains the blood and he died of septic mediastinitis. The body was for dead for quite long, it didn't smell or decompose due formalin layered on it.

"The ration shop didn't have any CCTV cameras," Nikhil informs.

"It isn't even surprising, why do you think they'll have a camera in there to capture them hoarding ration?" Kartik scoffs.

"The knife? Anything from there?" Kartik proceeds to ask.

"We did get some evidence. They got fingerprints on the knife found in ration shop," Nikhil informs.

"But we don't have any suspects to match the fingertips with," Kartik sighs.

*

Isha Rawat. The new victim of the series of murder. Kartik and a handful of teammates are doing their best to find all the information about her. 

They had contacted the college heads and administrators who spoke something along the lines of their college reputation being distorted all over again by her.

Kartik had questions about the meaning of 'all over again'.

They had told him about how Isha had thrown acid all over another girl because apparently the guy she was obsessed with ended up with her despite all her attempts to endeavour him to marry him.

Kartik cannot even imagine how deep must the obsession be rooted for her to take such immortal, impulsive measures. Cannot even imagine the power of the green-eyed monster that sat in the darkest part of her head to make it numb with such wicked madness. It is scary even how petty infatuation drowns one's life in a mere bottle of acid. 

On going through legal proceedings it was yet again another case that was pending in court and the accused is out breaching the very trust in the foundation of judicial system.

Kartik tries to found everything about the case, they had even contacted the victim of acid attack and their family, the boyfriend, all to find a string. A string that connects these random murders but there's nothing common among them except all these people did something wrong and deserved to get punished but the justice was awaiting like it has been for years. And that all these murders are done in the most peculiar and gruesome way. They met their end the very way they sinned, tainted lives with their sacrilegious hands.

*

It was bound to happen so it doesn't surprise him. He gets an order at about 10 AM in the morning. It says Kartik Singh and his team are banished from the case. CBI will investigate the case from now on. They are asked to submit all the related files and paperwork.

Despite having anticipated this event beforehand, disappointment settles in his chest, he had expectations with this case. Somehow, he saw this as an opportunity to attain a landmark in his career. Guess expectations are bound to let you down.

Kartik is allowed to take his leave a little after. Kartik is more glad about Nikhil finally going to his place and resting. He's afraid Nikhil would collapse any second. 

*

Kartik comes home to the sound of utensils clinking in the kitchen. 

Aman probably hears the door being slammed open as he comes to the living room to check on.

"What are you doing?" Kartik asks, slouching on the couch tiredly. His body is screaming for rest, his head is in a distorted state.

All he wishes for right now is a shower and sleep.

"I was just making tea. Shall I get a cup for you too?" Aman asks, looking concerned.

"Yeah please," Kartik says, taking off his shoes.

Kartik decides to freshen up and change in the meantime so he goes to his bathroom attached with his bedroom without glancing at anything else but he comes out after having changed in comfortable clothes he immediately feels the change in his bedroom. It looks eerie to see his room look this clean.

"Did you tidy up?" Kartik calls out loud from the bedroom.

"Yeah, how do you even live in such mess?" Aman yells back from kitchen.

"I just don't get enough time. Anyway, what's the point of tidying up if it'll get messed up again," Kartik exclaims.

Kartik goes to the kitchen, observes Aman manoeuvring smoothly in an unfamiliar territory. 

"Wait, you are lefty?" Kartik asks all of a sudden, noticing how Aman uses his left hand for almost everything; pouring the water in a vessel, putting the vessel on the stove to boil, adding tea leaves and sugar.

"Yeah. Didn't you notice before?" Aman raises an eyebrow at him.

Kartik tries to remember instances of Aman using his left hands and he is barely reminded of anything but watching Aman use his left hand so skilfully it makes him suspect his own memory.

"I thought investigators are supposed to be observant," Aman teasingly taunts.

"At this point, I don't know anything," Kartik exhales loudly.

*

They're in the living room, sipping their tea.

"You really look like shit," Aman tells him solemnly.

"Thank you very much," Kartik retorts.

"Honestly get some rest," Aman advises sincerely and Kartik nods in understanding.

"What was this murder about?" Aman inquires curiously.

"Envy. Victim was burned to death."

"That's not all, isn't it? Something else is also bothering you, right?" Aman says softly as he brushes the stray hair out of his eyes delicately.

It actually surprises Kartik the way Aman could make out there is something in his mind that is incessantly poking him, preventing him from letting himself relax.

Aman's huge brown eyes and thick eyelashes look very pretty right now, there's genuine concern in them. His lips pressed together in worry.

"My team got dismissed from the case," Kartik tells Aman.

Aman hums in thought before he says something beyond Kartik's comprehension but does make him think, "I don't think you chose this case. I think this case chose you, Kartik."

"I really need to leave. I have to prepare for college tomorrow. My attendance will probably not make it to 70%," he adds.

"What? Aren't you going to college?" Kartik asks.

"I haven't been going for a week now," Aman informs him as he starts to leave.

"Do rest, okay? And don't fret, everything will fall in place."

Kartik doesn't know but there's something about Aman's deep voice that had a soothing effect and genuinely made him feel like everything will get better for a second.

Kartik doesn't know why but he wishes for Aman to stay a bit longer but words don't make it past his mouth, they subdue under his tongue as he watches Aman leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the chapter sucks. I'm genuinely unmotivated and can't gather enough energy to write so if the updates get slow, please understand.


	7. pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I gathered my motivation and wrote this. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Anjali and @malecxkarman because you two are literal angels who are a huge reason that I feel motivated

Contrary to his initial beliefs, dismissal from the case actually is working out positively for Kartik.

He had slept in complete peace for the first time in weeks. The massive stress of very important serial murder case had not obstructed his dreams with obscure images of red blood staining skins, a knife laced with blood, smoke swirling in circles and strange patterns running over and over in an indecipherable manner. An unjustifiable fear that had kept tugging at his heart seems to have unlatched it from its claws.

He felt at ease but somehow felt drawn to the case yet again. A part of his conscience still gnaws at his ear telling him how it's still his duty to do his best to help to resolve the murder mystery.

The autopsy reports of the fourth murder are sent to them. Kartik does go through the file but eventually stops midway. It's not his business anymore. He plans to send the files and evidence to CBI as soon as possible.

Kartik finds it humorous how as soon as he is dissolved from the case, evidence seems to be readily showing themselves, things suddenly seem to be accelerating to a quicker pace.

They found fingerprints on the kerosene can and the knife found at the crime site of the fourth murder. The fingerprints match each other but do not match the ones on the knife found at the crime site of the third murder.

Kartik doesn't understand. It makes sense and is obvious that there are many people involved in the murders happening and many people who have chosen to keep their mouth shut even if they know something but there is one mastermind who has planned these murders so precisely. Kartik even thinks that they aren't finding evidence on their own, they are finding it because the mastermind chooses to let them find it. Because they did find the fingerprints but couldn't get CCTV footage. If it were truly a murder done unorganized or hurriedly, they probably wouldn't have managed enough time to disable CCTV.

Someone else might have murdered Isha but the signature carved across her head, the 'SURPRISE!' on the wall are in the same handwriting as all the other victims.  
That means the murderer was there but then why aren't the fingerprints matching?

*

Around afternoon, Nikhil storms in the room.

"There's a suspect," Nikhil says monotonously as he sits across Kartik.

Kartik glances at him, leaving his paperwork for a while as he crosses his arms across his chest listening.

"Tracked him from the phone records of the ration shop owner. He talked to him many times during several occasions a day before the murder. That's pretty odd since he has never talked to the owner before," Nikhil explains.

"Have you informed CBI?" Kartik asks.

"We talked to the people in the slums. They said he and his family were close to the family in the article," Nikhil continues, ignoring Kartik's question.

"You realize we're not working on this anymore, right?" Kartik says plainly with an expression as emotionless as Nikhil's. Sometimes, Kartik wonders if this man smiles.

"So you're giving up? You really don't care?" Nikhil provokes, raising an eyebrow at him challenging.

Kartik intends to say yes but he couldn't manage to. Because it'll be a lie. His team knows about these murders better because they have been through each one of them and have been looking through each aspect of the case. The case has slipped out of their hands, it's true but nothing stops them from being a bit helpful now, isn't it?

*

Although they are still looking into the case in secrecy, it doesn't feel like a burden like it more or less felt like before.

Kartik is getting more time for himself and he is spending it by catching up with healthy eating and sleeping habits that he completely lost track of during the cumbersome task of leading an investigation team.

He is also spending more time with Aman. He often goes for 'dates' with Aman to movie theatres, late-night dinners in restaurants, clubs.

(Aman essentially stresses that these little trips they have together are dates and Kartik just doesn't want to admit it. Kartik rolls his eyes at it.)

It feels easier breathing around Aman now.

Kartik remembers that day very clearly. The other team head had summoned him. She had told him she suspected Aman.

"We have been keeping an eye on him. He is barely at his house, arrives and departs at unusual timings. We contacted college for attendance records, he barely attends college," She had informed Kartik about suspicious behaviour they detected.

She had wanted assistance from their team because they had experienced interrogating the suspects of the case. Kartik had agreed but he was sure he would never get anything out of Aman if he interrogated to him bluntly.

So he had decided to contact Aman personally and keep his ulterior motives disguised behind his infatuated exterior. But somewhere along the lines of his clandestine intentions and Aman speaking his heart out to him, he had felt repentant for breaking Aman's trust in a way but then again it was his job.

That night when they had sex, Kartik really wanted to not do that. It only had made his rueful heart clench further but human beings are complicated. When he had seen Aman wearing nothing but the moonlight that snuck from the window, it had allured him like a siren serenading with its mellifluous song towards a metaphorical death in form of guilt eating him alive.

That night when he had seen Nikhil's message about another murder, his head went hazy but a part of him sighed in relief. Aman had been right before his eyes that meant Aman can't be the serial killer. The body had been retrieved after about half-hour of being burnt alive and Aman was with him the entire night.

That night he had broken two solid principles he had laid for himself; one, he slept with the same person more than once and two, he allowed personal feelings to affect his professional side.

*

It's almost eleven in the morning when Kartik wakes up beside Aman. Aman's naked form is curled up in himself, his mouth slightly open. Last night was as glorious as all the other nights they had spent together.

Kartik lets Aman sleep, freshens up and heads to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for both of them. He hears the rustling of sheets and the familiar decibel and rhythm of footsteps to make out Aman is awake.

Aman greets him morning, his eyes still drowsy from sleep as he scratches his head.

Aman helps him with breakfast and they quickly prepare themselves tea and toast. Kartik doesn't prefer tea but Aman special makes him think otherwise.

Around eleven-thirty, they are settled on the couch, set for a late breakfast. Kartik has an off today so the overall mood is very lazy and laid back. Aman has an off from college or that's what he tells Kartik.

Kartik switches on the TV, surfing through the channels when he hears something along the lines of murder. Kartik immediately goes back to the news channel.

The bold headlines read 'The Seven Sins really prove to be Deadly.'

The news anchor speaks in a very expressive tone, "We are continuously reporting our viewers about fifth murder in a row. Rishilal Balayan, 41-year-old man was found dead this morning at around 6. The corpse was hung from a tree. His forehead was chiselled was the letters PRIDE."

The series of blurred pictures are shown which Kartik thinks is futile because the pictures are anyway going to be circulated on social media somehow. The pictures and video clips show a man hung from a tree with a rope. There are people around in-crowd, staring shocked and eerily fascinated, whispering to one another, ensuing havoc.

The camera goes back to the news anchor, "These were the pictures from earlier. This is the fifth murder of the series done in such barbaric way like all the other murders. CBI has started an investigation. The dwellers of Jhelam village claim Mr Balayan was a prestigious and respectable member of the village. He was even one of the members of Sarpanch."

Kartik switches off the TV. Because it irks him. Just when he thought he has found relief from the chaos of this slaughter, there's another to unsettle him.

Aman himself looks disturbed but he tries to comfort Kartik. Kartik thinks it's oddly affectionate.

*

Kartik and Aman spent the entire day home but Kartik swears he never got bored. In fact, it was as if he could never get enough of spending time with Aman.

Around 9 at night. They are set to sleep because Aman has to go to college tomorrow and he has managed to convince Kartik to drop him there and pick him up from college because apparently Kartik is enjoying his two daybreak a little too much.

Before sleeping Kartik checks for updates from Nikhil. A text message says the suspect's fingerprints do not match with either of fingerprints and he refuses to utter even a word after all their tries.

Kartik sighs in disappointment before locking his phone and going to sleep. He turns to face Aman only to find Aman wide awake, intently staring at a point, deep in thought.

"What's bothering your pretty head?" Kartik teases but Aman's face remains solemn.

"Kartik? Do you ever wonder if you're doing something wrong?" Aman asks softly, looking at him.

Kartik wants to inquire why would Aman ask such a question but chooses to just answer it, "I do."

"How do you decide if it's the right thing to do?"

"I just close my eyes and listen to this inner voice. You know what this voice is: conscience. It never lies," Kartik says, putting his palm on Aman's chest.

*

Kartik reaches college to pick Aman up only to witness a few guys cornering Aman outside the college. They look like those edgy, spoilt brats with an attitude problem. They wear cold sneers on their lips, their loud mocking laughter infuriates Kartik but Aman stands there looking bored with a straight face.

"Work on your comebacks, darling," Kartik hears Aman's sarcastic voice snarking as he comes closer to the group.

Aman notices him and quickly hops on the bike.

"Is this your daddy, princess?" One of them jeers as they burst in laughter. Kartik swears he would have slammed a punch in his jaw if Aman wouldn't have placed a comforting hand on his shoulder to pacify him.

"Yes, he is. What about it?" Aman says, smiling wickedly as the bike's engine screeches to life.

While they are on their way to Kartik's apartment, Kartik asks Aman concerned, "Do they hurt you?"

Aman snorts, "They just think they can bully me because I'm gay. These are 'only bark, no bite' kinds. I can handle them, don't worry."

Aman shrugs it off but Kartik couldn't brush off the urge to teach those kids a lesson. Kartik doesn't understand why does it bother him so much?

*

"Shocking confession from the fifth victim's wife. Ms Sumitra Balayan admits that her husband beat his own son to death and buried his corpse before filing an FIR report about him being missing. Rishilal Balayan apparently killed his 15-year-old son because he was gay and he couldn't afford to taint his pride and honour in society," the news anchor reports, however professional she must be she couldn't conceal disgust on her face.

Kartik himself feels disgusted and feels the man deserved everything that came to him. He sighs and switches off the TV, heading to bed. Guess an ounce of sleep is too much to ask.

Aman didn't stay here tonight. The other side of the bed is empty.

It feels cold. It always does when Aman leaves.


	8. the last time

Kartik slams the door to his office, slumping into the chair, tugging his hair in frustration.

They have nothing to do with the case now but CBI is getting on his nerves. They are continuously interrogating the members of the team to get something out of their mouths that indicate their team has been careless and casual about the murders and have let things slip by unnoticed. It's making him mad the way they are trying to shift the blame to them rather than being the bigger one and admitting they could do nothing to stop another murder.

And honestly, Kartik understands the way these murders are so unpredictable and cautious. There is no surveillance footage of any of the murders, the cameras were either disabled or the footage was deleted. And in some cases, there wasn't any surveillance in the first place. Call histories were removed in few cases. The network operators are clueless about how anyone cracked through their system. The witnesses who might have suspected or seen that murder refuse to even speak about it due to fear and anxiety about possible consequences.

It's a whole mess but Kartik thinks it will be more productive if CBI actually tries to go through the files and search for some information to prevent the two murders left than trying to blame their team for minor and entirely insignificant errors.

Kartik sighs, looking at the display board near his desk. There is a plain white paper he himself had pinned to the board.

After every murder Kartik had written the sin chiselled on the victim's forehead on the white sheet along with the location and time in order to make out some pattern in the time or location of the murders but it was futile because all the murders were random at random locations and timings.

Kartik gets up from his chair, grabbing a black marker from the table as he heads to the board.

Writing 'PRIDE' in big, capital letters just under 'ENVY' in proper alignment.

Wrath and Sloth. Just two more murders and the series of murder will come to halt. But there's an unsettling feeling churning in his gut. His intuitions tell him the climax of this murder mystery is yet to surprise them with a plot twist. There's an undivulged, nameless fear grips his heart tight.

Kartik hears the door opening with a creak. He glances at the entrance to find Nikhil looking at him.

"They want you there," He says, sighing.

"Again?" Kartik exclaims.

"Yeah," Nikhil says softly, rubbing his eyes. 

Not a lot of times does Nikhil expresses his resent or annoyance but today Kartik did catch him scowling and scoffing a lot of times. And it's absolutely justified when the authenticity of their efforts and honesty is being ridiculed in the name of testimony.

Kartik starts to head out when his phone rings. He takes it out from his pocket, the Caller ID reads 'Aman'. He wouldn't have picked a call right now but it's Aman so he picks it up.

"Hi," Aman's familiar, warm voice greets.

"Aman, I'm busy right now. Can you come to the point quickly?" Kartik is afraid he sounds rude but he has things to do.

There's a hesitant silence for a few seconds before Aman asks unsurely, "I was wondering if you could pick me up tonight?"

"I really am busy today, Aman. I can't. Sorry," Kartik whispers as Nikhil signals him to urgently come with him.

"Kartik, it's really important-," Aman starts again, just when Kartik was about to disconnect the call.

"What's not clicking, Aman? I don't have time. And why don't you stop acting like you're my boyfriend?" Kartik snaps, yelling into the phone.

The frustration of the CBI officials constantly poking them, the shortage of time, the glimpses murders swirling in his head all combined together gets the best of Kartik and he explodes at the wrong time, at the wrong person.

Kartik expects Aman to give a snarky, sarcastic response or perhaps scream back at him but when Aman just whispers a timid 'Right' from the other side before the call ends he realizes he fucked up.

The listless void in his voice, the sheer fragility of his timbre makes Kartik feel as if he is the biggest criminal.

*

Kartik stands outside Aman's house in the slight cold zephyr of late night. Wind sharply strikes across his face, blowing loudly. The streets are empty, crickets can be heard chirping in the utter silence of the night.

It's pretty late. Everyone has probably fallen asleep or are quiet in the homes maintaining decency. Kartik rings the doorbell.

The atmosphere now reminds me of the silence before the storm. The storm might as well be Aman. Kartik promises himself that he'll stand there and take everything: if Aman bellows at him, he'll take it; if Aman curses at him, he'll take it; if Aman hits him, he'll take it because he deserves it for hurting his feelings even if he never intended to.

There's no response to the doorbell so Kartik rings it again. Kartik assumes Aman is probably asleep so he starts leaving after there's no response for about two minutes.

But he hears slight footsteps and stops. The door slowly opens to reveal Aman in his nightwear, holding a beer bottle in his uplifted right hand as he stands in a defensive stance.

Out of all the things he imagined, this was not even on the list. 

Recognition strikes Aman's eyes as he puts the bottle down, supporting himself against the door as if he'll collapse otherwise.

"Are you okay?" Kartik whispers slowly, reaching for Aman's shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

But Aman pushes his hand off, his steps stutter but suddenly he goes going feral, he aggressively pushing him in the chest as he yells "Fuck you!" that cuts through the thick silence of the night.

He yells it over and over, pushes him again and again and eventually takes a deep breath, looking at him widely, his lips tremble before he mushes his face into the crook of Kartik's neck, wrapping arms around his shoulders.

The last thing Kartik expects after the wild turn of events is feeling wetness against his neck as Aman breaks down right in front of his house. Kartik tries to rub soothing circles in his back but Aman just cries on, he murmurs something against his neck, sending vibrations into his chest but words aren't coherent enough to be put together and comprehend.

"You scared me. I hate you. I hate you," Kartik makes out the sentence being stammered in a quivering voice.

Aman slowly detaches himself from Kartik's embrace. But he doesn't lock his eyes with Kartik's. He keeps looking away in embarrassment. He rubs tears off his cheeks.

Kartik holds his arm, intertwining his fingers with Aman as he squeezes his hand in a way to offer comfort.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Kartik asks, realizing the entire ordeal is a different story.

"Not here," Aman says. 

And of course, outside a house, almost in the middle of the road isn't exactly a right place to talk.

So, Kartik drives them to his place.

*

They reach Kartik's place, Aman's arms have never left him ever since he met him. One of the arms is still holding Kartik's bicep. Kartik doesn't mind at all. 

Kartik seats Aman in the living room, bringing him a glass of water.

Aman keeps looking around, fidgeting around with his hands and feet. Kartik can tell something is bothering him.

"What's wrong?" Kartik asks slowly, offering Aman a glass of water.

Aman takes a sip before putting the glass on the nearby table.

"I've been getting calls. Like threat calls. It scared me so much. Especially in that house. That's why I even called you," Aman tells him, lowering his voice at the last part before looking away.

"About that. I'm really sorry, Aman. I have no excuses. I shouldn't have said that. You get mad at me. I deserve it," Kartik says because it does make him feel guilty.

Aman could've been in a worse situation. Of course, he himself was in midst of something but he should have taken out his frustration on the wrong person.

"I'm not mad at you. After all, it was the truth, right? We're not boyfriends or something, anyway," Aman whispers in a low voice. He tries, he really tries too hard to hide hurt behind the forge façade of understanding.

But Aman's eyes they say it all. They sparkle so brilliantly contrasting Aman's beautiful smile when Aman glows with unadulterated joy. They narrow in moments of irritation and roar in moments of anger. They lose all their vivacious glitter in moments of hurt, they brim with tears Aman doesn't let himself to shed, they look dull as the sky with vagrant grey clouds on a rainy day. 

They couldn't hide Aman's turmoil this time as well. 

Kartik lowers himself to the floor, gets on his knees, looking up at Aman, he cups his face with such delicacy.

"I'll be lying, Aman. I'll be lying if I say I don't like spending time with you. I'll be lying if I say every time I'm with you I don't feel like I'm on the ninth cloud. I'll be lying if everything about you doesn't drive me crazy," Kartik confesses with such sincerity, it warms Aman's heart.

"Guess it makes two of us then," Aman whispers so softly that Kartik thinks he probably wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't just a few inches away from Aman.

Kartik lets his hands fall.

"Weren't we supposed to not catch feelings? Such a deal-breaker, isn't it?" Kartik laughs humourlessly at the predicament.

"A deal? That's what we are you, huh?" Aman's face doesn't carry a spiteful snarl, just a droning genuine disappointment.

Kartik lets his shoulders slump, taking a deep breath. He takes Aman's hand in his own.

"Aman, I can't do this. Relationships are not my thing. I'm afraid I won't be able to give you anything you expect in a relationship. It'll only hurt you more. I don't want you to get hurt," Kartik looks down, he couldn't meet Aman's eyes.

"It's over, then. For good."

A low whisper lingering which becomes almost inaudible at the very end.

An end Kartik didn't know would make him feel as if something precious has been ripped apart from him when it began. An end Kartik didn't know would make him dread the intangible pleasures, not the palpable ones. The pleasure of a body can be replaced another but when strings get attached with one's heart, it's irreplaceable. Because the rhythm of the heart beating synchronises with your own. An invisible thread connecting them strains but it's difficult to let it break.

His eyes lock with Aman's. They drown in a familiar yearn. Kartik recognises it because it dwells in his own chest. 

Their faces move toward each other slowly, semi-consciously till they are barely apart.

"Can we? The last time?" Aman breathes heavily, wrapping his arms around Kartik's torso. 

Kartik doesn't answer. His lips just reconcile with Aman's, finding their place as if they belong there. Aman moans into the kiss, closing his eyes.

Aman bends down further, arching his back to deepen the kiss. Kartik finds himself latching on Aman's lips as if his life depends on the feeling of Aman's chapped but soft lips against his. 

The desperate desires inside him don't seem to fulfil, they just grow each time. 

'The last time.'

It rings in his head and suddenly he wants everything at the moment. Nothing is enough anymore. 

*

Kartik wakes up to Aman sleeping. Their legs are tangled. Aman's hands are on his chest. There bite marks blossoming all along Aman's neck and he feels a few on his own skin. It is like a déjà vu situation except it has happened before. The very first night they have spent together. It was an experience of complete bliss just like last night.

Leaving the next morning wasn't difficult the first time. Today, leaving Aman his heart is heavy with a hollowness. A void place that he didn't choose to but got reserved for Aman and now trying to empty it, he just looks on as his own home is being wrecked along. Because somewhere and somehow, Aman made these four walls around him feel like home.

*

Kartik reaches his office. Kartik has asked Aman to stay at his place for a while considering Aman feels terrified at his place. He has promised Aman he'll provide him with some sort of security or do his best to protect Aman from any dangers. He has retrieved the number through which calls came initially. Aman told him he blocked the number but calls  
continued to come from other numbers. 

Kartik has noted all the numbers and has made it a priority to secure Aman's well being today.

It'll not be easy and there's going to a long procedure and he has a lot to do as well.

Kartik finds himself busy the entire day with something or other. It's draining him but he has to do it. He had checked up on Aman during the lunch and he's continuously doing it through texts and calls.

Kartik tells himself it's his responsibility to safeguard a witness but his conscience knows it well.

Around six in the evening, Nikhil rushes into his office, breathless. An unreadable expression confides his face. His gloved hand holds a sheet of paper.

"Someone left it outside the office," Nikhil says uncertainly.

He places it on the table. It is a note. A note that appears to be written in red ink. But the metallic stench tells him otherwise. The handwriting looking back at him stirs a valid apprehension in his gut.

_bhare ghaav  
phir khudrege_

(Sealed wounds  
will reopen again)

_qurbat phir  
zeher ban tadpegi_

(Your closeness will  
turn into poison and suffer again)

_ishq ke panno par  
phir khoon chadega_

(Pages of love will  
be stained with love again)

_qurban ishq ki kahani  
phir amar ho jaegi_

(Stories of sacrificed love  
will become immortal again)

_maut phir  
darr ka keher barsaegi_

(The fear of death  
will dawn havoc again)

_kacche dhaage main gaanth padi hai  
jhatke main toot jaegi  
samay raftaar se daud rha hai  
kya dhaaga sulajh paega?_

(knots have found a place in weak threads,  
even a slight jerk will break it.  
time is running with pace,  
will the thread unravel?)

It makes him feel dizzy. Countless memories flash before his eyes, his head is a mess, flooding with images and voice. Someone he has given everything to forget. Someone whose voice haunts his nights. Someone whose disappearance made living through each day impossible  
Someone who he has loved with all his heart who unfortunately became someone who also made him to never fall in love again.

His phone rings sharply, breaking past the horrid silence in the room, the abyss of dreadful memories.

It's Aman. Kartik picks it up quickly, placing it near his ear only to hear a loud bang and throw it away from his ear.

"Aman?" Kartik says, confused.

Nothing is coherent on the other side. Loud crashes are heard, sounds of glass shattering into pieces followed by breathless gasps, short and guttural grunts, shrill yelps, myriad of curses and shrieks of help.

Kartik can identify the intensity, timbre and pitch of this voice even amidst loudest noise.

"Aman?" He yells into the phone. A fear clings him. 

A loud clangour followed by a series of painful cries loop themselves in Kartik's head before utter silence is heard on the other end.

A panic seizes his heart. He starts pacing around irrationally. Sweat covers his body. Everything feels hazy. He doesn't hear Nikhil telling him to breathe, to maintain his composure. 

They are rushing to Kartik's place. Nikhil drives the car because Kartik is not in the mind space to do that but he keeps telling Nikhil to speed up.

Reaching Kartik's place, it's a chaos. Glass shards of his broken glass vase are scattered throughout the room. The furniture is in a disarray stance. The floor stainless floor now has dark marks. The walls have long trails of scratches which appear like have been made by nails. There are splotches of crimson blood smeared on the wall.

Kartik fears for Aman's state. It makes his knees buckle, brain go haywire, dread creep in every vein of his body.

Kartik thinks everything is crashing down. A rattrap was set to close on him and he foolishly went right in it.

Kartik thinks this could not get any worse when he hears Nikhil's words resounding in air, "There is another murder."

Kartik feels a remaining bit of sanity leaving.

*


	9. wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rasnak who genuinely loves reading and writing and supports and encourages everyone. Thank you.

Kartik feels breathless. It is difficult to breathe right now, his head is disarray with thoughts and memories playing in an unorganised sequence. He feels the world crumbling, fears the promise of history repeating itself.

"Who?" He manages to let out, dread creeping through spaces between words.

"We don't have any other information. CBI is keeping it confidential," Nikhil says softly, going closer to Kartik placing a hand on his shoulder to assure him but he himself dwells in fear of giving Kartik false hope.

Kartik's limbs give up as he succumbs to the weight of circumstances. Nikhil tries to support him, wrapping a hand around his torso. Kartik leans heavily against Nikhil's form before he settles Kartik on the sofa nearby.

"Kartik, breathe," Nikhil says urgently, a grave expression etches his face as he shakes Kartik in an attempt to bring him back from the listless stupor.

Kartik tries to focus on Nikhil, tries to listen to him as he instructs him to inhale large puffs of air. Gradually, he does breathe, allowing his malfunctioning senses to restore back.

"Are you better?" Nikhil asks slowly, looking very worried.

Kartik just nods.

"Do you think you can find out the location?" Kartik asks, looking into Nikhil's eyes who exhales loudly.

"I am not sure the CBI would not let us interfere because it is not our case now but I can try," Nikhil tells him unsurely.

"It is my case now," Kartik says suddenly.

"I don't care. I can't let it happen again. I can't. Listen, help me with this one, please. I promise if they suspend us, I'll take the blame," Kartik vows, turning to Nikhil, trying hard to conceal his inner turmoil while failing miserably.

"Do you think I care if we even get suspended? It is not just your case, Kartik. It is our case and we are not letting anything happen again. We'll find Aman," Nikhil tells him, determined.

It makes Kartik's chest warm with a feeling of belongingness. Nikhil doesn't really use words to express his concern, his tiny gestures are more than enough. Kartik can't help but feel gratitude towards Nikhil. He has been working with him for almost as long as Kartik has been working in the department. He has been always there through Kartik's crests and troughs, consoling Kartik in his own way with his silent ways of affection.

"I will text you the location," Nikhil says as he starts to leave.

Kartik balls his fists. He has to do everything, he possibly can and get through this. He prays wordlessly in his head with his hands clasped, on his knees, lowering his head in submission to the almighty power to protect Aman at any cost. A hope glows in his prayers and he wishes his calls are answered.

*

Kartik does not want to waste time so he takes out his phone and logs in the website to get the recording of the surveillance camera he had installed in his living room.

He had gotten a call from Aman around six in the evening so he rewinds the recording to around 5:30 in the evening. The recording shows Aman sitting on the couch with a sheet of paper and pen, writing something with utter concentration. He looks as if he is stifling emotions and trying to bottle them up. Kartik wonders what could he be writing. After a while, Aman heads inside to the kitchen it seemed as he takes a left turn from the living room and goes out of range of the camera.

Aman comes out after a while and lays down on the couch. His face is emotionless but he looks like he is deep in thought. Kartik fast forwards the footage a bit. Around 5:55 the doorbell rings repeatedly. Aman gets up from the couch and goes to the door and opens it. Two bulky men dressed in all black enter the room while Aman shouts at them but does sense danger as he backs off, noticing they are armed.

Kartik can't see their faces because they are masked with a cloth. Aman screeches for help as the men inch closer to him, making it past the door easily. One of them immediately takes action, muffling Aman's mouth roughly with his gloved hand as he backs Aman's slim frame against the wall. Aman doesn't surrender, he bites the man's hand who immediately retrieves it at the sudden pain. Aman starts yelling again.

Kartik doesn't know if it is appropriate to laugh now but he can't help but think of the time Aman had asked him if he keeps any weapons at home for security and Kartik had denied. Kartik had jokingly told him how teeth are weapons of mass destruction, you just need to unleash their power.

Kartik's throat dries seeing what happens next, his hands quiver. The other man catches hold of his neck. Aman thrashes viciously, going feral as he kicks his hands and legs desperately. He is shouting loudly until he is shut again but a large, meaty hand. Kartik is surprised no one came to rescue hearing Aman. Aman grabs the man's hand, twisting it with surprising fortitude in moments of affliction. Aman runs to the centre of the room and grabs his phone as the men recover quickly and follow his lead closely. Aman jumps over the table and then on the couch in an attempt to avoid getting into their hands again. One of the men pushes the glass vase off the table in Aman's direction. Aman, fortunately, ducks it quickly but a few shards of glass seem to pierce his skin.

Aman rolls off the couch, causing the table and couch to move with the force of him striking against then. He quickly dials numbers on his phone which is probably the call he made to Kartik around 6. The men look frustrated and do not tolerate anything further. One of them gets hold of Aman's hair, lifting him up by his hair as Aman groans loudly, holding the man's hand while the other points a gun at him threateningly.

Aman is dragged to the door before his head is slammed against the wall continuously in rapid motion such that Aman doesn't even have time to react to the sudden action. His nails dig into the wall, scratching it frantically as he moans loudly in agony until moans fade away leaving behind the broken splinters and splotches of blood as painful souvenirs.

Kartik looks away eventually as one of the men carries an unconscious Aman out of the door.

Kartik leaves his apartment, not even bothering to lock it as he knocks the doors neighbouring flats. They must have heard something for sure. They might know where they took Aman. He talks a young girl in the adjacent flat.

"I heard someone screaming but I was too afraid but I did come out to check. There were two men, they were armed. I rushed back to my apartment and called the police. Everything grew silent after a while. I dared to come out only when they left," She tells Kartik.

Kartik thinks it's futile to ask anyone because it's obvious nobody is a fool to risk their lives by facing two strong looking armed men.

Kartik rushes to the complex's entrance.

"Three men came, all their faces were hidden. One of them held me on gunpoint while two entered the apartment. About ten minutes later, three of them left with a bleeding, unconscious young man in a black car. I informed the police later," The security guard tells him, the colour of his face pales after being reminded of what happened.

The security guard, thankfully, was wise enough to mentally note the number plate.

Kartik contacts Arjun and orders him to get CCTV footage of the Rao Tula Ram Road after 6 PM and track a black car with the number plate he will message him. Arjun doesn't question him recognizing the grave tone.

Kartik, meanwhile, receives a text from Nikhil texting about the location of the murder site while telling him to reach there as soon as possible. Kartik makes sure he thanks Nikhil.

*

Kartik reaches the crime site when the CBI officers are leaving with the body. The CBI officers recognize him and throw him quizzical glances.

The location is a marketing company called 'Kinetic' which appears to be very well off and prosperous judging by the extravagant infrastructure and facilities.

Kartik doesn't spare a second glance at the CBI officers and rushes to the corpse that is being carried on a stretcher, it is covered with a thin white sheet but he is stopped.

"I just want to look at the body once," Kartik pleads.

"Mr Singh, do you realize this is highly unprofessional of you to interfere in our job?" One of the officers who Kartik remembers had interrogated them chides.

"Look, this is not the time for these petty things. Aman has been kidnapped. I just need to make sure this isn't him," Kartik's voice wavers. He despises how pathetic he sounds.

"And who would Aman be?" The officers ask, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"My boyfriend," Kartik says. Kartik doesn't even know himself what exactly were they. Friends with benefits who caught feelings? Kartik settles for boyfriend to avoid the complication of explaining to them what exactly was the nature of their relationship.

The officer just nods at the paramedic who lets Kartik go ahead. Kartik clutches the stretcher, his knuckles turn as white as snow. All the muscles in the body tighten, he takes a deep breath before bringing his hand to unveil the white sheet of cloth over the corpse.

Kartik almost lands on knees. His eyes brim with tears of relief. The body finally relaxes as he exhales loudly. His prayers were heard. He thanks God for his grace and mercy inside.

He examines the body now searching for some clue because the game isn't over yet. Aman is still in danger and he won't stop till he will assure Aman's safety. The first thing that catches is eyes is blood. Dried blood. A lot of blood. The white covers are already stained red. The torso is exposed and the condition is horrible. There are deep lacerations and gashes all over the body. The abdomen is covered in ugly bruises, purple, yellow and some of them are even green. But all of that look as if done intentionally, decorated on the skin by some skilled artist. It looked like a macabre piece of art, somehow. 

There is a deep gash on the right temple which is coated with a thick layer of dried blood. Some bones look twisted in an add angle or deformed. In a few areas, torn flesh is visible. Kartik catches an iron rod stained with blood, a knife similar to all those they have found before and a gag and rope, all wrapped in plastic bags being taken as evidence. The man is clearly was brutally beaten and tortured till death took over, completing the punishment.

And hence, there is his sin written right across his forehead as if a reminder yet again that your actions always have repercussions: WRATH.

"Is there any other lead? Witnesses? He was tortured in the workplace. Someone must have heard," Kartik asks.

"Let me remind you again if you have forgotten, Mr Singh. This is not your business anymore," The official chirps slyly and it gets on Kartik's nerves.

"It is my business. My boyfriend got kidnapped, dammit," Kartik snaps before realizing this won't help it. It'll get him in their bad pages and make matters worse.

He clenches his teeth, closes his eyes, taking a few shallow breathes before he leaves.

At least he knows now that there are still reasons to fight for.

*

Kartik opens his apartment's door and he is definitely amazed that he wasn't robbed, having left the door unlocked.

The young girl from the adjacent apartment is at the door with a container in hand.

"You must be hungry. Here," She says extending her hand as she offers the container.

Kartik gratefully smiles at her kindness and whispers a 'thank you'.

"While you were out, a few policemen came. They took pictures and gathered evidence, I guess. They interrogated us too," She says.

Kartik nods, he is so mentally exhausted at this point that he doesn't care.

"I am sorry about what happened. I couldn't do much," She says again, looking away as if in shame.

"You did whatever you could. You don't have to be sorry," Kartik assures her.

Kartik makes his way to the kitchen, serving himself the contents of the container. He reaches for the refrigerator's door to look for possible leftovers when he notices a sheet of paper hung from the fridge with a magnet. Kartik detaches it from the fridge. He squints his eyes to read because the handwriting is a mess, cursive and small. The words are very close to each other, making it look crowded.

_Dear Kartik,_

_This a goodbye note kinda thing, I guess. I never thought it would hurt to end this when it started. I have never told you before but you were my first so I genuinely was hurt when you told me about the one night stand thing. But it eventually got better, right? I am not good at this emotional shit but Kartik when I met you I never knew you would come along this way but you know what they say some people are meant to meet. Destiny, they say. Maybe the universe wanted us to be together. I sound like those cliché teenage romances, don't I? But Kartik I want to tell you something. I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty, I just want to let you know that every moment I've spent with you I meant it. Every word said in the vicinity of your arms was right from my heart. Every kiss we shared was raw and unadulterated. I fell for you Kartik in a way I never purposely want to. I respect you for being honest and taking a decision. It ended and I think it's for better. We'll hurt each other less this way. And maybe we'll meet again in different circumstances, in different ways._

_~~Yours~~  
Aman. _

Kartik feels heavy as if the entire weight of the universe has been loaded on his shoulders. This confession was the last thing he wanted. He hates how he is reminded all over again that he felt the same. He lost Aman in more than one way and somehow this one makes him feel guiltier.

Kartik doesn't feel like eating anymore. His body feels exhausted, every muscle screams for rest but he can't get himself to sleep.

Opening the closet to change his clothes Kartik spots a piece of paper, written in red ink that isn't ink at all. It's blood.

There is a polaroid under it. The one he had buried deep inside his closet. It is a guy, a dashing one. His hair is scattered in all directions, flying by the wind. His skin glowing in the moonlight, making the stars above envious. There's a huge smile on his face, the most gorgeous smile ever. Those eyes sparkle with the most authentic euphoria. Kartik relives the moment. He is holding a camera in hand on the rooftop. Wind gushes loudly, making their clothes flutter. Dhruv giggles out loud, bracing the cool wind, loving the way it feels against his skin. In those moments, Kartik loved to capture Dhruv, bubbling with carefree happiness, with a smile so soothing it made Kartik think he could bring the entire world to knees just to see this smile.

Kartik doesn't feel anything at all. His mind goes blank, body goes numb.

Splattered with blood, on a yellowish sheet of paper that has a gruff texture, narrates a part of Kartik's life he vowed never to look back at.

_kuch yaadien bure sapne bann jati hai,  
har raat satati hai._

_kuch anjaan hamesha yaad reh jate hai  
kyuki wahi ek pal main barbaad kar jate hai._

_ateet ka bhoot darata hai,  
yaadon ko zinda dafnata hai. _

_ateet se ab kitna bhagoge?  
tumse aankhein milakar samne khada hai woh, ab toh rukoge? _

(Some memories become nightmares,  
they haunt you every night.

Some strangers embed in your memory forever,  
because they are ones who wrecked you in a jiffy.

Past's ghost scares you,  
forces you to bury memories alive.

How far will you run from the past?  
It is standing right before you, staring in your eyes. You'll have to stop now.)

Laying in the bed in utter darkness, Kartik's head was still a darker place. Shutting his eyes Kartik sees memories flashing by one after other. There is his beautiful Dhruv whose eyes glitter with life one instant and stare back cold, dull and lifeless the next. Then there is Aman, warm against him snuggled in bed one instant and next, he is gone, his delightful moans fade into gut-wrenching cries of help. And somewhere racing between Dhruv and Aman, Kartik's subdues in a bottomless pit he thinks he wouldn't ever be able to leave.


	10. vengeance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: i know nothing much about how an investigation proceeds. and i tried to research but I'm too lazy as well.
> 
> trigger warning: rape, character death, suicide

Kartik doesn't sleep one bit the entire night. He twists and turns on the bed, rustling the bedsheet under. His eyes are drowsy, the body is exhausted but every time he closes his eyes: there's Dhruv in his arms but he doesn't reciprocate the embrace, his hands listlessly fall by his sides. His eyes stare back continuously without blinking even once, they look distant, monotonous, soulless, just staring back lifeless. His skin is cold against Kartik's hands. Kartik frantically reaches his wrist to feel the pulse, there's no rhythmic movement under his fingertips, dread seeps down his chest. The wound right on his chest bleeds profusely, Kartik brings his trembling hands over his heart, the bullet is still in there. Nikhil's rigid but slightly wavering voice resonates in his ears, ordering to immediately call the ambulance. Kartik raises a hand in an indication to stop; it's futile, he knows, the bullet has already made it's way past the skin, pierced through the heart. Kartik brings his blood-stained hands to Dhruv's face, brushing a hand over his eyes as gently closes Dhruv's dark brown eyes that once bubbled with a spark. A lone tear slips down his cheek. He wraps his arms around Dhruv, holding him in a tight embrace closely.

_Dhruv is standing on the very edge of the terrace, admiring the car headlights, the shiny fairy lights outside the shops and light from the numerous windows of complexes that altogether illuminate the hectic streets._

_But Kartik is more worried about the way Dhruv is literally teetering on the edge of the terrace._

_"Step a little away, you might fall over and die," Kartik whispers._

_Dhruv giggles and turns around extending his hand to Kartik, indicating him to take it and Kartik does before Dhruv brings him closer to himself as they both face the city._

_A playful voice chides in his ear, "You know what, Kartik? I would love to die."_

_Dhruv holds Kartik's hands to wrap them around his own waist as he presses his slightly shorter frame into Kartik's chest, turning his head to the side to look at Kartik as he whispers, "If it is in your arms."_

Kartik couldn't bottle himself anymore. Tears freely spring out of his eyes, sobs and wails of sorrow and loss as he holds Dhruv's lifeless body dearly against himself, refusing to let go.

Dhruv's blood smudges his white shirt. These stains might even fade away with intensive washing but the scar that marked its essence on his heart would never go away.

*

Kartik doesn't waste any time when he reaches the office. He has requested an urgent meeting to be held with the senior officials. There's no way Nikhil can sneak inadequate information and details about the case for a long time being and even if he can it'll just waste their time.

They agree for the meeting and Kartik can't afford to swirl things in circles so he bluntly informs them, "We need to reopen the Suicide Murderer case."

It stirs quite a hustle in the room but Kartik pays no heed to it.

"This," he says showing them the picture of Dhruv and the note he found yesterday.

"I found this at my house yesterday. I checked the footage of the camera installed in my living room. No one entered my bedroom after Aman was kidnapped except the police constables who came for investigation."

He pauses and sighs out loudly, "This case is related to the seven sins ones. I can't afford to lose Aman as well."

His voice dwindles, throat stings but he continues, "I request you to reopen this case and let our teamwork parallelly with CBI."

The Senior Prosecutor tells him that they support his motives and realize the importance of the case for him and they will try their level best to contact CBI and inform them but at the end, it's CBI's call.

Kartik does realize that's all they could do and ends the meeting, nodding his head.

*

Case M327 often called as the 'Suicide Murderer' case. Kartik stares at the file. Slight dust has settled on its cover. Kartik opens it. The pages appear yellowish and crinkled. Turning a few pages, there's a brief summary. It brings back so many painful memories and sleepless nights, the ache in his head becomes unbearable.

** Cas e M327 - Suicide Murderer: A brief summary **

_**June 2, 2017 (Thursday)** _

_Three murders took place in the same neighbourhood in town Narela, Tehsil district, Delhi - 110036. The victims: Rishabh Khatri, Vishal Chauhan and Mohit Chaudhary were 17, 19 and 17 years of age respectively. Three of them were found tied up and gagged with deep stab wounds. The autopsy reports confirmed all of them died of being stabbed multiple times as they proceeded to bleed to death._

_**June 5, 2017 (Sunday)** _

_Suspect identified as Viren Singh on basis of surveillance cameras installed outside the shop opposite Anuj Chauhan's house. The same suspect was seen entering all the three houses where victims were found dead in disguise. Suspect found to be on loose. Pictures and details of the suspect are sent to all police stations in Delhi._

_**June 7, 2017 (Tuesday)** _

_Details of interrogation with the suspect's family:_

_Viren Singh's wife Usha Singh, 40, revealed the victims had gang-raped their daughter, Neeti Singh, 17. The court case has been pending for about 9 months. The police have been very uncooperative and casual._

_**June 10, 2017 (Friday)** _

_The suspect was spotted at Indira Gandhi International Airport and arrested. The suspect admitted to committing the crime. The suspect was arrested. Case closed._

_**June 16, 2017 (Thursday)** _

_Case reopened. Neeti Singh committed suicide. The body was found hanging from the ceiling at 7:14 in the morning. According to the suicide note, the trauma of sexual harassment followed by Viren Singh's imprisonment led to suicide but she wrote that nobody should be deemed responsible for her suicide._

_Viren Singh was allowed bail for daughter's funeral. He fled from the funeral. Search for the culprit was initiated immediately following that._

_**June 18, 2017 (Saturday)** _

_Dhruv Mishra was found dead at B-23, Avenue Apartments, Delhi-110042. A note, written in blood, addressing Kartik Singh, the head investigator of the case, stated, "Now you know how it feels to lose a loved one."_

_Viren Singh was found dead hung from the ceiling at the very place his daughter was found. In the suicide note, he admitted to having gang murdered Dhruv Mishra. Case closed._

Kartik shuts his eyes. His throat stings, tears gather in eyes but he doesn't let them fall. A father's blind vengeance had taken away his lover from his life, so far that it was impossible to reach him again. But Kartik, somehow, understands what he probably went through to do what he did because he swears if Viren Singh hadn't committed suicide on his own, he would have killed that man with his bare hands. Looking back Kartik realises how vain must have the action be. Like Viren murdered the rapists and Dhruv in the rage of vengeance and he would have done that too only to get caught in the vicious cycle of vengeance.

Kartik takes a deep breath. He doesn't know anything but he knows one thing that he is not letting this happen again. What was Dhruv's fault? That he happened to be the most precious thing in Kartik's life and that made him fall prey to someone's atrocious revenge. That had broken Kartik. He had started to believe having anyone in his life would be risking their lives and he couldn't afford to pay the cost again. Nobody could replace Dhruv. He ran away from even the thought of romantic relationships, adopted a life that doesn't need commitment, resorted to unhealthy coping mechanisms until Nikhil forced him to see a therapist. Some things got better with time but not committing became part of his reckless lifestyle.

And then Aman came along and his treacherous heart fell like autumn leaves on a tree do when the wind blows ferociously.

He promises himself he will not let Aman fall prey to the same hostility. Even if it takes putting his life at stake. Even if it means stalking away from his life without insurance of reconciliation. Even if it demands to leave Aman for eternity.


	11. it's him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I could gather motivation. Last time it went it came back after 2 years. I'm still struggling to gather motivation.

Kartik didn't really expect for his request to get sanctioned but when it does he doesn't stop. Making his way past the bleak clouds of doubt regarding his own capabilities, guilt about his forlorn attempts, Kartik chases a light that gives him hope for some way out of this labyrinth of losing.

"The wrath murder. Fetch me all the details, quickly," Kartik asks.

Nikhil realizes the gravity if the case and what it means to Kartik so he knows better than even thinking of slacking off. He does it with extreme swiftness. 

The victim, Abhishek Verma, worked at the position of a senior creative executive at the 'Kinetic'. He had a well-paid job and was quite reputable and reliable person according to his colleagues. However, on interrogation with his family, it was obvious that they were trying to hide something. His wife, Kriti Verma, stuttered and fidgeted the entire time and didn't give away any significant information. Their children who were initially refrained from interrogating had to be brought into the picture. The children, Sameera, 13, and Anurag, 9, refused to answer any of the questions. Judging by few unconcealed bruises and cuts on their bodies, domestic violence and child abuse is suspected. Kriti Verma later conceded it after while she broke down during an interrogation that followed. She admitted that he would hit her very often in a fit of anger and frustration due to office stress or other inconvenience. She tried her best to never let him get to children but failed miserably when his anger issues got worse. In the audio recordings, she says something that shatters Kartik, "He made sure to break me enough to make me feel so vulnerable and powerless that I never even gathered enough courage to report." 

Kartik was not even done reading through the details of the wrath murder that another devastating news reaches him.

"Arjun sent an alert via phone. It must be serious. We have to check up on him," Nikhil panics. Sweat drips down his face, alarm intact in his expression.

Kartik immediately gets up, realizing it is indeed serious. 

"Get his location traced, we are leaving," Kartik utters, biting his inner cheek in order to suppress the ugly feeling in his chest.

*

They are on the way to the traced location. Anxiety claws at him seep its teeth right in the neck. Kartik reaches his pocket to take out a bottle of pills, he always carries them, it helps in such distressing circumstances. He quickly swallows down the pill without water. 

Reaching the location, it is a chaos, it is Traffic Police CCTV Control Room. The ambulance's pitched siren makes his head ache even more. He scowls deeply and rubs his temples in a failed attempt to help his migraine. But when he spots Arjun on a stretcher, he rushes to his side. Kartik won't lie Arjun looks pathetic, he's barely conscious, he just keeps trying to force his open and whimpers occasionally. His head is profusely bleeding, it looks like it has been cracked open and in the most painful way. 

"Arjun," Kartik hears himself whispering and he thinks he sounds horrified.

On hearing a familiar voice, Arjun forcedly opens his eyes which appear unfocused and blurry.

He shuffles his feet, tries desperately to reach Kartik. He clutches Kartik's shirt to get his attention, struggles to form words but Kartik waits patiently.

An incoherent gurgle follows, his eyes turn consistently disoriented. 

"Aman..." he murmurs, so inaudibly, Kartik wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't bending over so closely to Arjun. 

"Aman, what?" Kartik pats his face softly to keep him awake for a bit while. 

"Arjun? Please stay with me, just for a while," Kartik feels selfish, Arjun clearly is in so much pain but he needs to know.

"Aman, he.." Arjun trails off, the last shred of his perseverance wears off as he falls unconscious.

Kartik groans in annoyance and helplessness. Tears of frustration and pain gather in corners of his eyes but he doesn't let them fall.

There is another person on another stretcher. They have been told that he is the head of CCTV footage control room.  
He was showing Arjun the CCTV footage of the previous day which Kartik had asked Arjun to retrieve for tracing the black car.

Kartik feels the weight of remorse dawn on his being. It always feels the same, your conscience poking at you, never letting you rest even for a second, a constant reminder of how fucked are you and slowly you start believing you are fucked and ultimately it dooms you into doing fucked up things and disastrous mechanisms to cope.

*  
Kartik has a severe migraine. Nothing helps anymore. 

He is sitting at his desk in the office. It's humid and hot and that definitely does not help his headache. It feels dirty to be covered in sweat but Kartik tries to focus on work.

It's twelfth of June and Kartik knows time is slipping through his fingers like sand. Eighteenth of June, Dhruv was murdered and he's almost sure that the last murder will take place on that day because whoever this person wants to reiterate history and is most likely to dig wounds deep on the very day they were marked.

They are doing whatever they can or whatever they are permitted to. It's difficult when CBI forbids them from taking major actions.

They have searched up details about Viren Singh's remaining relatives, extended family, close friends, former colleagues because it has to be someone who knew Viren Singh properly. Knew about details of his personal life minutely. They have been looking out snd interrogating everyone who could be involved

It is also very much obvious that the murdered is targeting only those people who had committed some crime and had gotten away with it. So, they are searching through newspapers, social media news outlets, all sort of mass media to search for a case which might be related to sloth.

Kartik does know and realizes that the serial killer wants the finale to be grand and memorable so that it remains with people for long for some sick, twisted pleasure. That is why they are looking for some huge scandal that might appear to be worthy enough to be part of the closure of this series of gruesome murders.

A part of Kartik is also extremely anxious for Aman and wishes for his well being. His thoughts keep drifting to Aman and guilt finds it way back from past.

And every time he thinks of Aman his head aches, it feels like someone has slammed a hammer into his skull and cracked it open. He grips the stray strands of his tousled hair tightly and nearly tears them off his scalp trying to survive the excruciating pain in his head. He lowers his head on the desk, the rest of the world detached, all he could concentrate upon was the terrible agony entrenched deep in his head.

He frantically searches for the bottle of pills in his pocket. It nearly falls to the floor due to his hasty, stuttering movements. But he manages to uncurl the cap and swallows up two pills straight. He had just popped a pill about an hour ago and it's unhealthy but at that moment all he wanted was to make the pain end and sense was the last thing he could make out.

He feels drowsy, exhausted. It's probably the sleep deprivation and workload acting up together along with stress and anxiety.

He keeps his head lowered for a while as he groans in pain softly.

"Kartik," a voice calls.

It makes Kartik snap his head up, his eyes searching. Kartik would recognize this voice anywhere.

"Did you miss me?" 

There's a yearning in the voice but mostly melancholy as the soft words make past his lips.

Kartik shakes his head, rubs his eyes, blinks continuously, shocked and unsure.

"Don't you recognize me, Kartik?" 

There's him, standing there in the same clothes he last saw him or always saw him even after. The same white shirt, stained with crimson blood, dried but smudged all over. The same hair, disarray and running in all possible directions. His left cheek bruised, a scar running down his right temple, bleeding. It seems as if he woke up right from his death.

"Dhruv," Kartik whispers as he slowly gets up from the chair. His hands tremble vigorously, they strive to touch, to feel the same warmth and heat of intimacy.

  
They find their place around Dhruv, they belong there. Dhruv wraps his own arms sound him, embracing him tightly. All his tightened and strained muscles relax under the touch.

"Did you miss me?" He whispers in Kartik's ear. 

"Yes," Kartik cries, choking on his words, resting his head on Dhruv's shoulder as he breaks down, "Yes. I missed you. Missed you so so much."

He clutches Dhruv's shirt roughly, he doesn't let go, his fingers dig through the skin past the thin fabric but he doesn't let go. Afraid, if he lets go again, he wouldn't ever see him again as the last time.

"Kartik," he whispers, looking at him with snivelling eyes, lips pressed in a thin line, he roams his hands affectionately over Kartik's face.

"Let me go, please. You have to let me go," it's miserable, beseeching, begging. Kartik hates the sounds of it.

But it's also mellifluous, like a siren's song serenading him into a trap.

"If you have ever loved me, Kartik," he whispers, slowly moving a bit closer to lock his lips with Kartik.

"Set me free."

Kartik's grip slackens but he doesn't let go, staring at Dhruv, looking so beautiful, painfully for moments.

He takes his hands back, unwrapping them.

"I'm so sorry. So sorry. Forgive me," he cries.

_For letting go._

_Again._

"Never say that," Dhruv whispers, holding his chin ever so delicately before giving him a watery smile.

Dhruv's figure blurs, appearing translucent as Kartik sees the obscure display board through his body. Dhruv smiles with all his teeth, stretching out his arm, as Kartik only wishes to hold it.

"Find him, Kartik. Find him. He's here. He's right here," he whispers softly, there's a sense of security and assurance in his voice, Kartik misses it so terribly.

Dhruv fades away in thin air like camphor sublimated with smoky fumes. Fades off like a vague dream.

Kartik feels jitters running throughout his body. He paces around the room, back and forth, trying to wrap his head around what exactly. He is afraid and anxious that he is getting back right where he started. All the progress snapping and shattering.

His breathing is irregular, the head is a mess clogged with so many thoughts he swears it will explode any second. 

_Find him. He's here. He's right here._

Kartik looks around at the room, eyes searching, skimming, analyzing.

 _Here_ , he said.

Kartik starts searching every place in the room as a man possessed. Shuffling through every single file that may be related, looking through drawers than haven't been touched in years for about half an hour.

He stops, slumps in his chair. He looks up blankly. Staring at the display board. He feels nothing, numbness seeps in through the skin, he just stares at the display board in despair.

The blue texture of the material under the arrays of sheets pinned looks velvety and soft. The wood of the frame around has holes in it and it's so dusty it looks like it hasn't been cleaned in years. Some thumbnails are coated with rust, some notices are years old, he wonders why are they even there. But there's a large sheet on top of those dusty, yellowish sheets, the seven sins the heading says.

There are all the sins written in the sequence of the murders. Kartik thirdly gets up and writes 'SLOTH' perfectly aligned under 'WRATH'. 

It looks eerily weird. There is something about the pattern it makes Kartik think he has seen this before. Somewhere he just can't remember where.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to concentrate. A vague image flashes for barely even a second. Urdu ink imprints shimmering on brown skin.

Kartik's hands move subconsciously. He starts writing the Urdu counterparts for each sin before them. The same image flashes again, more clear this time. And Kartik circles the first letter of each word vertically.

He closes his eyes. There's a familiar weight in his lap, chapped lips meeting brushing against his, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Kartik feels breathless but something catches his eyes.

> _You have a tattoo?_
> 
> _That's gibberish, Aman. The tattoo, it's just random Urdu alphabets put up together. Trust me, I understand Urdu._

> _Wait, you are lefty?_
> 
> _Yeah. Didn't you notice before?_

> _What? Aren't you going to college?_
> 
> _I haven't been going for a week now._

> _Kartik? Do you ever wonder if you're doing something wrong?_
> 
> _I do._
> 
> _How do you decide if it's the right thing to do?_

> _I don't think you chose this case. I think this case chose you, Kartik._

> _And maybe we'll meet again in different circumstances, in different ways_.

  
His knees give in. His body shivers like he has been drowned in ice-cold water and left. He succumbs against the wall in shock and disbelief, he just can't believe. All the nerves transmitting biochemical reactions seem to loosen and drift apart before they meet together at synapse and burst.

He holds his head. Trying to get rid of these voices playing like a music player in his head on a loop. It can't be. It can't be. He chants back to these voices. Challenging them. But deep inside he knows.

He hears door bursting open in a distance, something been knocked over, steps stumbling with a customary rhythm.  
  
"Kartik?" 

It's Nikhil. Kartik doesn't even need to look up. The depth of his voice, the concern swindling in it.

He looks up when Nikhil crouches down to his level.

"It's him," Kartik whispers more to himself than Nikhil.

A confrontation. To himself.

Kartik thinks everything is driving him crazy. The truth is suffocating him. It's been hiding under for so long. It needs to be said out loud.

"IT'S HIM," Kartik screams, using all his left energy, clutching his head tightly, gritting his teeth and sobbing out loud, choking on words.

He keeps yelling it. Nikhil looks scared. He tries to hold Kartik but he thrashes limbs, keeps screaming like a mad man. There are tears streaming down his face, saliva down his chin as he keeps screaming and thrashing until it all goes down as he falls unconscious. 

Leaving.

Somewhere he could find solace for once.

Leaving.


	12. the end: sloth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the last chapter. I'm so glad that I could actually complete three fics for the fandom. I think it might be my last. But I really want you all to know that you are the only ones who are the reason I gathered the motivation to finish this. Thank you to each one of you who has bothered to comment, like and read!

18 June.

The finale. The end of the series of turbulent events that struck Kartik's life like a trainwreck. To Kartik, it is a deadlock of two crises where both either side is a dead end. In the end, he is likely to doom, that's the only certainty.

If Aman gets caught or he doesn't, it doesn't matter. Kartik is just fighting a lost battle. He knows he has lost, bleeding with old wounds that were plunged open. Looking back he thinks he had lost the very night of the 'envy' murder. The night it took place, he was with Aman. The relationship with Aman definitely had ulterior motives because he was suspicious of Aman which also gave him an excuse to justify their relationship but after that, he had no reason to be with Aman but he wanted to and so he credulously believed him unquestionably. The fingerprints didn't match each other because they were fingerprints of different arms. When Aman told him he was lefty and he couldn't recollect any memories of Aman using the left hand, it's because Aman usually uses the right. Apparently, Aman is ambidextrous. The fingerprints on the letter he wrote to Kartik and the ones written in poetic warnings match Aman's. He should have known better than that.

Amidst everyone searching every nook and cranny of news outlets, the news actually came served on a platter for them. It was a huge scandal, every newspaper and television headline flashed with it. A Delhi High Court judge was convicted for pending cases and overrunning trails unnecessarily. Some cases were related to POSCO Act. It was also suspected that there are several unsaid names that kept this corrupt system hidden. Kartik is sure this is the last victim for it is a huge name and will stir a sense of horror among a lot of people since it's likely to get huge coverage. Also, postponing trails, avoiding work does fit in sloth scenario if taken out of context.

The officers have been guarding the judge's house for about three days now.  
Kartik thinks protecting a person as such is purely solicited because it's their responsibility to prevent any kind of violence even if it is called for.

For Kartik, the entire week has been a mess. He has been basically been surviving borderline overdosing his pills without letting anyone know. Stress and anxiety have finally full-fledged got to his sanity. The hallucinations of Dhruv has got more severe and real. It has happened before and Kartik knows he can handle this. Just before they got a lead on the upcoming sloth murder. A bunch of people showed up out of blue, claiming to have witnessed stuff regarding the murder. Kartik had laughed hysterically like a madman. After all the time, they thought this was the best time to come up with their stories. Bullshit. All of this just to distract them from the case but Kartik knows better now.

The security has been nearly doubled today. They, somehow, surprisingly believed Kartik's theory about the last murder being on the eighteenth of June. 

They have been relentlessly guarding all day long. It's almost 6. The sun is going down meeting the horizon, splashing orange and red hues in the sky.

Kartik walks down the aisle in the middle of the grand garden. They had only let him in after thorough checking and verification. Everything was okay until a call in the afternoon that dawned chaos.

"Hello, Kartik." 

Kartik recognizes it so distinctly except there's is a sinister resonance to it and the sound alone makes his stomach tight.

"I thought you'd never figure it out." 

Kartik remains quiet. It sounds as if it was meant to sound mocking but it's a mere hushed whisper which subtly laced with something akin guilt.

"Anyway, why don't you get guards who aren't that sloppy and inattentive by the back entrance?"

Kartik feels his heart gallop excessively fast against the curve of his ribs. His throat dries and there are no words coming out to his mouth or perhaps he doesn't have anything to say at all, there's just numbness seeping deep into his bones that is slowly paralyzing him.

When Kartik doesn't respond, there's a soft sigh on the other side.

"Let's end this where it all started, Kartik. Let's meet again, in different circumstances, in different ways."

And there's a beep and reality crashes down on him.

_Where it all started._

Aman's house. The greed murder. The first time they met. Where it all started.

It's a full circle.

Kartik thinks he would have panicked but this isn't even close to the shocks he has received the past week.

Kartik informs the most senior officers at the location and havoc ensues. Like bedlam of birds chirping incoherently.

They find an officer's unconscious, half-naked body. There's a handkerchief nearby drenched in highly concentrated Chloroform. Of course, they wouldn't want a lot of noise to draw attention.

The officer is stripped off his uniform. Aman sneaked in disguised as an officer and managed to abduct the judge without anyone noticing in a highly guarded arena whilst he's faking his own abduction.

He did all of that but it's impossible without help from someone who is in authority. There's a snitch among them.

But this isn't the time to figure out who.

*

It's too late. Kartik knows even when they aren't inside the house. He just knows, it's a feeling in his gut and he is certain it's true.

They all have guns in their hands, aimed up as they barge in the alert. It's dark, all the lights are off and suddenly there is blinding brightness making their eyes squint at the sudden intrusion.

There's loud applause and sardonic laughter in a distant. They consciously and carefully follow the sound.

In the living room at the dining table, there's a split image of the first murder except it isn't a young woman. An old man, his hands and legs bound tightly with the wooden chair. His mouth is full of pills. Lots of them. The very same pills are served on the plate before him and a gun kept beside. 'SLOTH' carved in a shape of weird intaglio.

One of the officers, whom Kartik barely recognizes, approaches the old man.

"He's alive," he whispers, checking the pulses.

"Sleeping pills. 2000 mg can result in death. I'm pretty sure I shoved more than that into his throat. I wouldn't waste my efforts if I were you."

Kartik finally lets his eyes meet Aman. He's sitting there on the same couch Kartik first saw him. His legs spread out casually, hands behind his back lazily, a pompous smirk on his face. He has a bandage wrapped around his head, probably from the fake act he had pulled for forging an abduction. He's so calm and relaxed as if there's nothing wrong while all of them have ants in their pants, it infuriates Kartik.

"Hands up," One of the officers shouts aloud, aiming a gun at Aman's face. He doesn't even flinch a bit.

"Chill, man," Aman lazily says.

He slowly gets up, ignoring all the guns pointed at his head and moves straight up to Kartik.

Looking at Aman closely he looks the same yet so different. He has grown a bit of a stubble. Maybe that makes him look intimidating or is it his eyes; they look icy cold, devoid of emotion, almost inhuman. But when they look at Kartik, they flash with an ounce of life, a bit delicate.

"So we meet again," he says softly, smiling bitterly.

Kartik just stares, doesn't utter even a word. 

Aman looks away briefly; maybe he sees the hurt of betrayal, maybe he feels Kartik's heart shaking vigorously and breaking into pieces as Aman himself stomped on it.

Aman looks at Kartik again, he smiles, in a hushed murmur, reminisces, "Remember when I asked you how'd you know if you are doing something wrong?"

Aman breathes sharply.

"You said close your eyes, there's a voice of your conscience it never lies. I did it, you know."

"It's screaming at me. Telling me all over again how fucked I am," there's a streak of pain flashing through pure insanity that burns in his eyes

Kartik watches alertly as Aman's hands reach his pocket. Silver flashes in his sight.

"Aman no," it's a devastated plead amidst the shouts and warnings of the officers.

Aman just hears the mellow, slightly gruff voice.

"All of this is futile. How am I supposed to weed out these sick sinners when I am the biggest one?" He screams, his voice breaks, shivers.

The officers try to prance at him but he backs off threatening them with a warning in a low, dangerous voice.

"Punishing all of them for sins, wishing to instil fear in people so that no one ever dares to sin again, so that they dread meeting death as agonizing as such, I forgot that I am the biggest of the sinners."

"I hurt you, didn't I? I'm so sorry, Kartik. I never meant to. I swear. My intentions were to manipulate you. To make my way through this easily. To know what you are up to. But I stopped caring. Every moment I have spent with you was pure bliss. I tried to leave, I swear, but you were so intoxicating I kept coming back. Never realizing I'm just hurting you even more."

It is scary. The way Aman is a barbaric monster one second, with his eyes narrowed into slits, his voice so dark it'll give you chills but the very next he's on his knees, so vulnerable, docile, begging Kartik for forgiveness.

"Don't forgive me, Kartik. I don't deserve you. I shall repent my sins," he says, his voice tremors, body shivers.

No one dares to come near him as he slowly grabs a gun from the dining table.

He places the gun to the floor as he raises the knife. He presses it against his arms' skin, tracing and digging deeper past the epidermis as blood rushes out.

"Anam, no. Aman, please, no. Don't do please don't," Kartik finds himself crying.

"I have to, Kartik. I have to. You know I love you, right?" He says, staring into Kartik's eyes. There's something about them it unsettles Kartik.

Kartik places his gun down. 

"I know. I know, Aman. Do you love me? Do you?" Kartik says, raising both his arms in surrender as he kneels to Aman's level.

"Place the knife down, Aman, please."

Kartik can't help but look on and plead and cry as Aman digs past his flesh violently, just keeps babbling 'I love you' like a broken tape recorder.

Kartik doesn't understand. After all, Aman has done to him, why does it hurt to see Aman hurting?

"Isn't it pretty?" Aman asks like a child would, showing someone a drawing.

Through blurry eyes, Kartik sees a combination of letters, drenched in red, carved on Aman's tan skin: SINNER.

"Aman, stop. I love you too. Please don't do this," Kartik thinks he's panicking now. His breath hitches, blood is rushing through his veins at incredible pressure, he can barely breathe as Aman picks up the gun from the floor and places it right over his temple.

"I love you, please."

There's a loud gunshot resounding through the room after last words fall past Aman's lips, "Set me free."

That's the last thing Kartik remembers.

*

When Kartik wakes up. He's in a hospital. There's no one in the room until a few minutes later a nurse shows up.

"Hey, there. Are you feeling any better?"

Kartik doesn't respond to that, he has his eyes closed, trying to wrap his head around things.

"Kartik?" 

He finally opens his eyes only to meet Nikhil's concerned gaze. He springs up, distressing the nurse who worries anxiously, but he ignores her.

"Please tell me he's okay. Please."

"Who, Kartik?" Nikhil sits down on a chair beside the bed, dismissing the nurse with a subtle hand gesture.

"Aman. Is he okay? Please say yes." He pleads pathetically.

"Kartik, I think you need to rest a bit more, okay? We can talk after."

"NO. Tell me."

"Last night. We caught the criminal. You recognize him?" Nikhil says, taking out a mugshot of a man.

"Yeah. Isn't he one of the suspects. The one who was suspected after gluttony?"

"Yes. After the sloth murder last night. He surrendered himself. It's a bunch of people but he's the leader."

"What are you even talking about? Aman. What happened to Aman?" Kartik almost shouts, losing patience as Nikhil keeps talking nonsense.

"I'm afraid I don't know an Aman, Kartik."

Kartik snorts and laughs in his face.

"What do you think this is? A fucking game? Please, Nikhil, this isn't funny at all."

"Kartik, let's talk once you're not on high medication? You've been here for a week. Let's talk later?"

"Listen, Nikhil, stop whatever you're doing. Please tell me if he's okay. Please. Don't you remember? I was with you yesterday. Aman, h-he," Kartik couldn't get himself to finish the sentence, nearly breaks into tears.

"Kartik you've not left the hospital for a week. Ever since you had a breakdown. You overdosed, you could have died, for god sakes."

"You know what? Fuck off," Kartik bursts out.

"Stop playing with my head. Stop fucking playing with my head. Do you think I'm fucking insane?" He shouts.

He tries to get out of his bed only to be forced inside by Nikhil as he screams to let go.

*

Kartik cannot believe it. They are trying to prove him fucking insane. They say there's no Aman Tripathi. They showed him records and documents that Sushmita Tripathi never had a son and even CCTV footage which somehow was edited in such a way that there was no Aman. They think he'll believe all this shit.

How the fuck isn't Aman real? How the fuck every fucking one keeps telling him that. Keeps lying to his face.

Even the senior-most officers of the department are ready to lie to him. Even Arjun who was the victim of Aman's attacks is refusing any such incident. And surprisingly there's no sign of any head injury on any crevice of his body. One of the few things that really made him doubt himself. Maybe they really have fed every one to splutter lies to him. Even the neighbours. They tell him there was no kidnapping? The young girl next door tells him that she only came to offer him food because she made something special? Not because she wanted to help? 

Kartik doesn't care. It doesn't matter to him how many people can they make lie? He'll expose all their lies.

Kartik has contacted the Delhi Technological University. It was where Aman was pursuing his engineering in CSE. They tell him there are no records of a student as such studying in their college. Kartik can't believe. Did they convince a whole organization to fabricate a lie? 

Even at Flames, everyone refuses the existence of Aman. It's a whole person. How can Kartik fabricate a person?

"Kartik? These files. You yourself maintained it right? Did you write fibs too?"

Kartik doesn't understand. He never wrote something like that. He remembers certainly.

They can lie to him all they want, try to prove him wrong, destroy and manipulate all possible proofs. 

Kartik has letters and warning notes, he had kept safe in his drawer at the office locked. Only he has the key to it which stays at home. 

Kartik opens up the drawer, right in front of everyone because he wants to prove them all wrong. He takes a step back. It can't be. The drawer is empty, there's just a polaroid of Dhruv, the very same picture in the rooftop, and a rusty ring that was gifted to him by Dhruv. 

The people at work only know of Aman by his appearances at the first crime sight, for witness statement and interrogation at the office and probably the kidnapping which nobody really witnessed. The office CCTV footage doesn't track even a trace of Aman.

But Kartik has spent nights with Aman, been with him the closest possibly. How are all those nights fables? It's true Kartik resorted back to pills after it got stressful when the case started but Aman can't be unreal when he has felt the most real to Kartik.

*

Kartik sees a therapist. She listens to it. Even if she finds it impossible to believe. She hears him diligently.

When he described Aman to her. She pointed out how his description of Aman's appearance and even a few habits and behaviour patterns were awfully similar to Dhruv. And looking back Kartik painfully realizes that as well.

She tells him Aman is a figment of his imagination that his subconscious mind fabricated as a coping mechanism. He hadn't let go of Dhruv and in his head, he still felt guilty and responsible for Dhruv's death. So he created an alter ego, and intuition where Dhruv wasn't the victim but the tormentor so that in one possible way Kartik saves him or plays the hero to help his guilt.

She also points out how Aman knew the most intimate details of his personal life. Even those which Kartik hasn't shared with anyone, he knew his weaknesses, insecurities. 

The overdose induced even severe hallucinations and deluded Kartik's mind to believe that Aman was tangible. Perhaps, the thin line between reality and imagination has really blended together for Kartik. It is easy to cross the line but when the realization dawns, the world crumbles.

He sees his therapists often. He wants to get rid of it. The perpetual cycle of leaving. Abandonment. Guilt. Self-loathing.

Kartik closes his eyes, it's dark. Kartik feels the safest in darkness, it feels like his own self. A reflection of his being.

A pair of handcuffs glint in darkness as Kartik leaves in a world where perhaps leaving is not a thing.

*


End file.
